Contagion
by Manuuk7
Summary: A TnT saga that starts on the planet of Luspypso where Archer, Trip and T'Pol went on a three-day mandatory shore leave while Hoshi remained in charge of Enterprise. Then the l'lieoihs started dying and now a blind T'Pol is adjusting to a new life on Enterprise. Can Trip handle her disability? Can she? Through it all, Enterprise keeps exploring.
1. Contagion 1 Shore Leave

_The universe of Star Trek and all related intellectual material is the property of Paramount. Some of us like to play in that universe and let our imagination run wild writing more stories. This is one of those stories [double-chime from Law Order]._

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Trip walked into the transporter room, square duffel over his shoulder, whistling a happy tune, heedless of hitting any wrong notes. T'Pol looked up from where she was inspecting an assortment of hard-shell cases of all sizes and got up to her feet, hands behind her back.

"Have you decided against shore leave?" she eyed him quizzically, though he couldn't tell what she was thinking as she was carefully censoring the bond.

He turned around so she could see his duffel bag. "Three days shore leave with you on an alien planet, even if you haf'ta work – what'd make you think I'm not going?"

"I remember your customary shore leave sartorial attire as being somewhat more colorful."

Trip looked down at his well-worn pants and comfortable top, suddenly realized what she was talking about. "Ah" he drawled "you don't get it, do you? See, the tropical print shirts were so that I'd get noticed" an eyebrow emphatically stressed her acknowledgement of the thousand-watt truth of his statement "but I don't need to get noticed anymore, seeing that I'm already with you." He flashed his best smile at her.

The other eyebrow joined the first one in a mute exclamation point. "Is it a human male trait to seek a relaxation of standards as soon as a goal is achieved?"

Trip chuckled "Yeah, it won't take long before you see me grow nose hair and start turning in these beauties "he admired the cuff of his pants "for sweat pants – very stretchable sweat pants, to fit my expanded girth, you know."

"Nose hair? Commander Tucker -–"

Her retort was interrupted by Archer's arrival. Like Trip, he was in civvies, comfortable clothes that may have been in statis for well over a few years judging by the tightness in the waist and thighs of his pants. That may have been the reason for the Captain's somewhat grumpy mood. Or it could more likely be because there was no way he didn't hear the last few sentences of their exchange and the part about weight gain. Hoshi Sato trailed him, still wearing her uniform.

"Ok, you two" he snapped "enough with the bantering. The science teams have a job to do, even if Commander Tucker and I are forced to take shore leave." He gave T'Pol a pointed look, which went straight over the Vulcan's head. Once again Archer self-pityingly decided that he and Vulcans were simply destined never to understand each other. Archer looked at Trip. "Let's remember that shore leave is secondary. The science teams are going down to catalogue the existing flora and fauna. You and I are sidecars. Thanks to Phlox." _And thanks to your wife_. But he didn't say so.

As luck would have it, that was the precise moment when the doctor sauntered into the transporter room, his grin as broad as usual, quite oblivious to the disgruntled stare Archer threw him. "Well, well, well" the Denobulan was all asmile "I see everything is in order, hmmm?"

Archer glared back at him. "You don't have to come and throw your medical weight around, doctor. Commander Tucker and I are going on shore leave."

"Oh," Phlox grinned even wider, if that was possible "I was not coming to check on Commander Tucker and you. No, you see," it was obvious Phlox was absolutely relishing every minute of this "after I put you on medically-ordered shore leave, thanks to Commander T'Pol's report that neither of you had taken the regulatory-mandated time off in the last two years" he graciously inclined his head towards the resident Vulcan, who inclined hers back in response, though with a smidgen of reserve brought on both by the irate glances from Archer and Trip and by a keen sixth sense that the good doctor had something up his sleeve, "I decided to review the entire crew's RR history and update all records." The doctor stopped, bouncing slightly up and down on his heels, hands clasped behind his back. "And I found another exception, a member of the command team who has been derelict taking the required time off." He turned to T'Pol "Which is why as per Regulation M-2552.02 I am placing Commander T'Pol under a three-day medically-ordered shore leave, effective as of today."

Phlox's grin could have lit up a ballroom.

The wall of anger that came back at the doctor through the bond was so strong that Trip took a step back in fear, before he realized it had only been an emotional reaction from T'Pol, quickly suppressed. She was staring at the doctor through dangerously-narrowed eyes. Trip took the on-the-spot decision that there would be no nose hairs hanging any place around him. No siree bob, not with her as a wife.

"Doctor, you are interrupting a scientific mission of extreme importance." Funny how a calm tone could sound so ominous.

"Commander, I am not interrupting anything and your team is superbly qualified to handle the cataloguing of indigenous flora and fauna without you there. You're the one who trained them after all. You may take a tricorder down with you and putter around all you want looking at things here and there but you are not leading any science teams and you are not doing any work."

Trip couldn't remember seeing T'Pol at a loss for words before. The doctor had managed to pull the rug from under her feet. As if Phlox couldn't let go of a winning streak, he went on. "Oh, and of course, per regulations, you cannot stay in the Starfleet facilities at the spaceport, you're to spend the next three days in a lodging of your choice, at Starfleet's expense, at a minimum fifteen miles remove from the nearest work-related facility."

Archer turned to Trip "I take it you have some planning to do?"

Trip flashed his best smile back at him and T'Pol "I'm sure the facility I was planning to stay at can accommodate a room for two without any issue." And T'Pol had already packed for a stay planetside, whether at the Starfleet spaceport or in the city would make no difference. Actually, from his perspective, this whole shore leave was sounding better and better. Instead of having to go find her at the survey sites each day and keep himself busy while the scientists geeked around, he had visions of hikes and road trips and late mornings dancing around in his head.

The good thing with Vulcans was that once they accepted the logic of a situation, they embraced it completely rather than hold grudges or drag their feet. All he needed to do was wait a couple of minutes for T'Pol to mentally review Starfleet regulations and come to the realization she had no choice.

Archer's mood also had lifted, proving once again that misery loves company. That, and a certain aura of payback that the snitch who got him and Trip into shore leave was hoist on her own petard. "Perhaps the three of us can meet for dinner one day." Leaving a rueful T'Pol to mull things over, he turned to Hoshi "You'll be ok?" Lieutenant Reed would also be taking shore leave, having avoided the cold grasp of M-2552 by less than a week. Lucky devil.

The diminutive ensign comically snapped her heels in reply. "Everything will be fine, Captain. If I may remind you, you're not the only one going on shore leave. Half the crew will be on the planet." Apart from the three medical inductees, shore leave had been granted through a simple lottery. The lucky winners would be spending three days planetside in one of Luspypso's subterranean cities, just enjoying their time off.

"Everyone will be studying the birds and the bees" quipped Trip, rolling his eyes.

"Commander, while the planet does have species of theropods and endothermic vertebrates that are similar to birds, we do not know if their hexapod invertebrates include a paraphyletic group like bees." T'Pol paused when she realized from the Humans' facial expressions that she may be talking off subject. She quickly reviewed her knowledge of colloquial expressions stopping on the one that seemed to be the most closely related. "Unless you are referring to courtship and sexual intercourse?"

Hoshi snorted and Archer coughed, turning red. "Well, uh, everyone, since we're not allowed to play, let's focus on making sure the work teams have what they need." That drew T'Pol's attention back to the scientific equipment that was in the process of being beamed down. Behind her back, Archer threw a meaningful look at Trip, trying to impress that there were times when the engineer would be better off keeping his mouth shut.

He turned back to Hoshi "Just make sure the good doctor here doesn't decide you need more time off than you really do."

Phlox good naturedly let the remark roll-off. "Regulations, Captain, regulations. Intellectually, everyone knows that a well-rested mind is a sharper mind and a well-rested organism has more reserves against illnesses and general life adversities, but some have a harder time with the practical application. That's why the regulations are there."

"And you're not taking shore leave yourself?"

Phlox chuckled, inwardly giving Archer points for trying. "I did take shore leave over the past two years Captain, actually more than once. I have a bunch of medical journals to keep me entertained." He flashed another radiant smile. "Sharpness."

"The equipment is ready for transportation." T'Pol interrupted, all-business as usual.

"I will transport it down myself. And you all," Hoshi was already stepping at the controls.

"And the other shore leave teams?" a part of Archer wanted to make sure they wouldn't be the only ones relaxing on the planet, like some giant practical joke where he and half his command team were basking in the sun while his entire crew was working through the night.

"They're already lined up in the corridor. The science teams will go first, then the shore leave teams, seven at a time. The spaceport transporter is large enough." Hoshi was going into more detail than she had to but she understood Archer's vicarious need to make sure everything was in place. He simply wasn't used to taking shore leave.

Archer sighed, turning to the transporter pad. After all, it was only three days.

What could go wrong in three days?


	2. Contagion 2 Ahrijht

Trip looked at T'Pol's back, rolling his tongue against his cheek. He had been waiting very patiently for her to be done giving directions to Ensign Adigo, who would lead the scientific surveys in her stead, but there were limits to everything, and certainly to human patience. If she didn't stop soon, he was going to rudely drag her away. Archer and most of the shore leave crews were already on their way to the city centers, whose tall spires they could only guess from the spaceport, and he was raring to go. He could understand that her mandatory exile to shore leave had been abrupt and unexpected, leaving her no time to prepare either herself or her teams, but this was ridiculous. A wave of patience came at him through the bond and he knew she was close to wrapping up with Adigo. About time, if one were to ask him.

Fifteen minutes later, they were finally on their way out of the spaceport. While the science teams would be residing on site, in the accommodations that the Iustreans has leased to Starfleet right by the spaceport, Regulation M 2552-2.0 barred him and T'Pol from lodging there or within fifteen miles. Fortunately, he had already booked a nice little inn in an unassuming section of town, close to the outskirts of one of the centers, a practical choice as he had expected to go out each day in search of the survey teams. He had seen no reason to change his reservation when Phlox dropped Reg. 2552 on T'Pol. Honestly, he could have kissed the doctor in gratitude. Instead of three days of enforced inactivity, he was now looking forward to three full days of almost-normal married life, making believe the two of them were enjoying a blissful vacation away from their little white-picket-fence house. He knew that where his ideal of domestic life leaned towards the white picket fence cliché, T'Pol was probably thinking rock-hewn ancestral dwellings by the fire plains of Mount Tar'hana. Residing in space was actually a good compromise for the two of them.

The view when they exited the spaceport was breathtaking, worth letting go of every cliché floating in his mind. In their minds. The sky was a cerulean blue which was deeper than the blue of the waters off Florida. The sandy plains were an ochre red which was more profound than the iron-rich plains of Vulcan. Out in the far, far, distance, they could see the towers of the city centers of Ahrijht spiraling against the sky. The red of the sandy soil extended all the way to the luminous hills circling the city.

They boarded a hovercraft-style shuttle that glided over the sands towards the city. The sight was mesmerizing. Trip lightly touched T'Pol's wrist, pointing at the white spots of some animal herd on the flanks of the hills. He knew that Vulcans appreciated beauty no matter the circumstances. He also knew that the science teams would be somewhere among those hills the next day and that T'Pol was barred from getting anywhere near them. "How about a day hike tomorrow?" he leaned over to T'Pol where she was taking in the amazing view. The hike was intended to distract her from missing out on the geek chorus, the endearing moniker the grease monkeys in Engineering had given to the science crew, always ready to comment on what was going on.

T'Pol turned to him with interest. This seemed to have pulled her thoughts away from the hills and the science surveys. "We could go to the Ulaih ruins" she replied. "I understand the visit combines physical exertion with cultural meaning" Trip smiled. There was enough in there to make both of them happy.

Arriving on the city center was another eye-opening wonder. While they had all read on Luspypso and the Iustreans, it was another experience altogether to actually see the city centers nestled in giant sinkholes, the top floors of their buildings jutting incongruously from the sandy plains all around. The practical knowledge that the base on the sinkholes provided the only stable anchor for building foundations, the sands above being too unstable to allow any kind of permanent construction, didn't take anything away from the feeling of wonderment. How the sinkholes had come to be and their clustering was still a scientific enigma, but the Iustreans had leveraged and replicated the natural phenomenon to build their airy cities and their civilization.

The hovercraft had reached the edge of the first city center of Ahrijht and they disembarked. They stood at the edge of the city crater, looking at the thousands of people congregating from all sides on the barren red sands surrounding the crater. A couple of miles away, they could see another crater, then anoter, each marked by the tall thin spires of city buildings, each marking the surface access to the underground maze of buildings and streets that formed a Eulysian city. Trip and T'Pol walked to the platform overlooking the miles-wide gigantic sinkhole, looking down at the hundreds of steps at their feet that allowed access to the underground town at all times. The sinkhole swallowed the first six floors of the buildings tightly pressed within its perimeter. And these were tall floors. They could walk down the stairs or take the first aerial bridge to one of the elevators.

"Let's walk down" Trip wanted to take advantage of the forced planet stay to get his body moving again, without the use of the equipment and contraptions aboard. Enterprise. He adjusted his backpack, hoisting it back up on his shoulders. The narrow pack contained everything he would need for their stay.

Walking was evidently not the favored form of Iustrean locomotion, and they were few climbing up or down the stairs, though the ones that did made short work of the endless steps, swallowing them three at a time with their endless gangly legs. Though humanoid, their appearance was quite different from most other humanoid species, elongated to an average of close to seven feet with limbs that were insect-like in their apparent lightness and lack of muscles. Trip couldn't quite figure out how they had evolved in symbiosis with the desert environment, though he guessed they were less-likely to sink in the sand.

As they went down the steps, swarms of flying insects started buzzing around their heads. Anxiety slowed Trip's step down but T'Pol kept walking "These are L'lieoihs, a type of small bird. They are not insects, belong to the order apodiformes, similar to trochilidae – hummingbirds on earth. They are indigenous to Luspypso and can be found in hundred-strong swarms throughout the underground parts of the cities. It is believed they find refuge from the heat and lack of water of the sand plains in the city environment."

Trip paused. Hummingbirds. He looked more closely at the flying insects that looked like gigantic flies, bigger than any he'd seen. Finally he was able to track one in particular and saw the thin curved beak at one end, a tiny piece of keratin that woudn't be found on a diptera. So these were hummingbirds. He could see the tiny wings beating their hundred-a-minute rhythm. Clouds of them were flying around their heads as they walked down to the city center and their shore leave together, the sunlight rippling off their backs, projecting tiny dots of blue onto the stairs above and below. He would have been hard pressed to find a better omen.

The inn was easy to find, a slim structure that reached a few stories over the top of the sinkhole, its Terran-style architecture obviously meant to attract alien travelers, while still yielding to Iustrean aesthetic and cultural sensitivities with airy and open corridors set on the outside of the structure. It was a family establishment, the innkeeper and his wife pleased and eager to welcome the travelers, it was homey with touches that reminded Trip of civilian life, and it was private, there were no other Starfleet-types in the vicinity. It was perfect.

Once they were inside the room that had the hallmarks of being one of a kind and not some personality-deprived replica of the other rooms, with furnishings that bordered on the luxurious, he turned to his wife, who had been thoroughly noting everything that could be observed about their accommodations.

"So?"

She inclined her head to the side. "Your selection is pleasant."

If there were a lottery prize to be had, Trip felt as if he'd just won it. He grabbed her in a fierce hug, lacing his fingers with hers, quite aware of where the physical contact and his thoughts would eventually lead them, closing the door on the outside world with his foot.


	3. Contagion 3 Expect the Unexpected

"Ready to go?"

"I am ready." T'Pol lifted an eyebrow midway. The question was quite illogical when she was standing fully shod in the middle of the room in her white thermal suit with a neatly squared daypack on her back.

"Let's go then". As he stepped out of the room, Trip felt something crack under his foot. He lifted his step right away, looking with sorrow at the dead hummingbird lying in the middle of the hallway. T'Pol was right behind him and there was no way to hide what happened.

"I didn't mean to –" he started.

"It was an accident." She was already kneeling by the dead bird, carefully taking hold of its tiny wings. They both stared at it as it laid in the palm of her hand. T'Pol went back inside, grabbing some tissues from Trip's pack. She gently laid the bird on top of the soft paper, then wrapped the body and put it in a corner of a drawer where it would be safe from cleaning robots and roaming predators.

"We will ask the innkeeper if there are any specific ways to deal with the remains." She told her bondmate as they made their way downstairs.

Once again, Trip paid a silent note of thanks to the fact Vulcans did not dwell on what could have been but took care of what was. The only times they were thrown for a loop were in case of illogical actions, sexual innuendoes, enforced rest… Trip realized making a full list might keep him busy for a couple of days.

"Morning, morning, Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, my dear alien travelers" the innkeeper was effusively over-the-top in his attempt to ingratiate himself to his guests. Trip made a face, too small to be noticed by the innkeeper, wanting the man to get going and leave them alone. But the Iustrean seemed determined to shadow the small table at which the Starfleet officers had seated themselves.

"May I recommend the Askjakj?" he asked, proferring a glass jar filled with a thick amber liquid.

"What is this?" T'Pol was instantly curious and Trip sighed inwardly, now they would be stuck with the innkeeper. Though to be honest his curiosity was picked as well.

"This" the innkeeper bombastically announced, making Trip wonder if he was about to see elephants walk in the room "is the nectar from the l'lieoih. You have to try it, I can't even describe what it tastes like."

He unscrewed the top with a flourish and a twist so and they could see the sweet sticky nectar starting to ooze out. T'Pol daintily took the spoon that the innkeeper presented her, catching the smallest amount of nectar on the tip, before activating her tricorder and taking readings. She looked up after a couple of seconds, nodding at Trip. They could partake.

It was indeed impossible to describe what the nectar tasted like, neither sweet not savory, halfway between dessert and appetizer, with a taste that couldn't be captured in human words. It was like the l'lieoihs themselves, tiny and huge at the same time. They each took a liberal portion for breakfast while the innkeeper explained how the l'lieoihs gathered in hives at night that the more enterprising Iustreans laid out for them so they could collect the overflow of nectar the birds produced. The conversation would have dragged on if the innkeeper had been more versed in the scientific aspects of the nectar production, but thankfully enough as far as Trip was concerned, his knowledge was elementary.

As they took their leave, Trip told the innkeeper. "I am so very sorry, but I stepped on a l'lieioh by accident this morning. We were wondering if there was anything specific we needed to do."

The innkeeper shook his head "The l'lieoihs never land during the day. If you stepped on one, it means it was already dead. It must have flown in from the outside and gotten disoriented, hit a wall. I haven't seen that in a very long time but I hear it happens once in a while. I'll go up to your floor, check if I can find what happened."

Trip was relieved. It was such an inconsequential thing but causing the death of the l'lieoih, even by accident, would have been a poor start to the rest of the day.

"And the remains?" T'Pol asked in turn.

The innkeeper shrugged. "Most people throw them in the disposal chute. There are so many, some consider them to be no better than a nuisance." _But a very nice-looking nuisance_. Trip didn't see any reason to share his point of view with the innkeeper.

xx

The ride to the hills had taken over an hour and they were still another hour from the Ulaih Ruins. But the second hour would be on foot, walking up the hardscrabble hills all the way to the top, where the ruins stood on a rocky promontory, guarding the plains below. There were many marked paths to the top, with varying degrees of difficulty. They had chosen the most difficult one, pretty much straight up the hill to the top, with a fair amount of bouldering. A warm dry wind was whistling by, hardly refreshing, and Trip was starting to sweat profusely from the heat.

T'Pol kept pace below him, less powerful when it came to hoisting herself up the rocky outcrops that interrupted their progression to the top, but lither and less burdened by the ambient heat. Where Trip was starting to look like a sweaty mess, something the cat dragged in after having chewed it for a little bit, she looked as fresh as when they walked out of the inn, not one hair out of place. He eyed her ruefully. It was totally unfair that she would look so good halfway up the climb.

He looked up at the incline ahead, shading his eyes from the sun rapidly ascending in the sky. Its twin was already rising on the horizon. The slope was getting steeper and the path ahead mostly made of boulders of increasing sizes. Getting to the Ulaih Ruins would be a reward onto itself.

"Picnic break?" He called down to T'Pol. And waited for the obligatory rejoinder. There was comfort to be found in the certainty of some things, like the fact it would disturb her to do things out of logical order.

"Are you suggesting we interrupt our progress to eat? It is not midday yet." Trip chuckled in response. He had never gotten out of the habit of riling her, it was just too entertaining, especially when she nailed him back with some sharp rejoinder. But she didn't seem in the mood to do so. She had caught up with him and just looked at him with infinite patience. "It is not logical to propose a course of action one doesn't plan to undertake in the search for emotional indulgence."

"On the contrary, darling, on the contrary. I'd say that may be one of the most common flirting behaviors among Humans."

Instead of replying, she cocked her head to the side, listening. Trip waited, wondering what was going on in her mind. Before he could ask, she had slammed him against the slope of the hill, flattening herself next to him. "Rocks—!"

The rest disappeared in a maelstrom of dust and noise as an avalanche of rocks of all sizes streaked downhill.

xx

Hoshi stared at the screen through narrowed eyes. What was it with her and command? Every time she had the ship the same thing happened. Someone came out of the blue sky and proceeded to commandeer the Enterprise as if it was theirs to do as they pleased. Ever since that politician during the events of Terra Prime. Was it her personal curse?

"With all due respect, sir, half the crew is on the planet below and not due back for another two days. We will gladly go pick up the Federation envoy as soon as everyone is back on board."

The Federation executive on the screen would not let go. "Ensign Sato, Braputer is only a day away at warp three. That gives you plenty of time to go pick up Freeholder Yonde and come back for the crew."

It was time to call on her poker player skills. "Regulation M 2552.02 states that the captain of the ship may not be contacted for the duration of the medical suspension but remains the captain in all circumstances. Captain Archer is my direct line of command and I will check with him when he is available, in two days."

The official was showing signs of exasperation. Hoshi didn't care too much, but she was mentally crossing her fingers, hoping he was not terribly familiar with Starfleet regulations. Unfortunately, Federation Executive Wy-whatshisname had access to a computer screen and she saw him calling up the regulation, then reading it while she waited. He suddenly raised his head in victory "Regulation M-2552.02 has an exception for matters of emergency. It states that in cases of emergency, the person temporarily in charge of the ship shall act as the captain of the ship. I am officially declaring picking up Freeholder Yonde to be a matter of emergency and the Federation officially requisitions Enterprise for the mission."

"Sir?" Hoshi couldn't believe he would pull an emergency card for a simple matter of taxying an envoy from one planet to the next. She could appeal to Starfleet about the gross abuse of power but it would take much longer than two days before they came back with a decision. There was no way out.

"You heard me, Ensign. This is a Federation emergency. You are therefore the acting Captain and you are ordered to go pick up the Freeholder. Then come back pick up your crew. The Freeholder will tell you where he needs to be dropped off." And the official cut off the comm.

Hoshi's hand had already hit the intercom. "Hoshi to Dr. Phlox. Can you come meet me in the ready room, doctor?"

"I'll be right up." The Denobulan tone didn't indicate whether he was surprised at the summons.

xx

"You mean, there's nothing we can do?!"

Phlox shook his head. "If this were a true emergency, I could lift M-2552 and recall the three of them. But we both know this is not a real emergency, only a bureaucratic abuse of power. I will not participate in this farce by treating it as an emergency."

"In other words I am stuck." Now it was Phlox that Hoshi was looking at through narrowed eyes, wondering what the doctor had hit his head with that he would have the three most senior officers on Enteprise on mandatory shore leave at the same time. Though to be fair, they had expected this to be a routine boring planet-side posting and survey, and it was short. Mercifully short.

Phlox threw one of his usual radiant smiles at her. "I wouldn't say stuck, Ensign. It will only take a day to get the envoy and a day to come back, the Captain and the Commanders won't even know we were gone." _Famous last words_ , thought Hoshi, but she didn't say so, she didn't want to jinx it.

"I'll talk to Lieutenant Reed, let him know we're leaving orbit." Hoshi sighed. She couldn't even bring Malcolm back and have him deal with the whole mess. The captain had made her acting-captain and only he could order her down again. She was stuck. No matter what Phlox pretended.

There was only one person left on board who had the experience and expertise that she needed. Other than Travis, but she needed expertise with the operations of the ship and his area was navigation and command.

"Sato to Hess"

"Hess here."

"We have been ordered to go pick up a Federation envoy on Braputer. It will take there and a day back at warp 3. Do I need to recall anyone? "

Hess caught on right away. "If it's just a quick back and forth, no side trips, you can do it with the personnel currently on board. Even if you stay there a couple of days, all the operational areas are manned. If it's longer than two days, I'm going to need to get some engineers back here."

"Very well. Sato out." Hoshi sat in the command chair, mulling things over. She just didn't want to take Enterprise out while it was undermanned. They'd had too much experience now with things that didn't work according to plan. She felt all areas had adequate coverage except one. Not that there was anything lacking with his replacement but there was one person she trusted above all else if they happened to encounter issues of the unfriendly kind. Sighing, she pressed the intercom again. Malcolm may regret being pulled from shore leave, but he would regret even more not having been there if the Enterprise ran into trouble.


	4. Contagion 4 The Ulaih Ruins

"You're okay?" Trip's heart was beating faster than the wings of a l'lieoih, the rush of adrenaline had made him flush a bright red, he knew it just from the heat along his forehead and the sides of his face.

Next to him, T'Pol coughed, waving the air to clear some of the dust cloud that had trailed the falling rocks. They were both coinvered in a thin layer of red particulate matter, not counting the grams they had breathed or swallowed. The gritty taste made Trip's teeth want to crawl.

T'Pol was looking up the cliff to the top of the mountain, the shine of the twin suns filtered by the dust still permeating the atmosphere. She was carefully evaluating the rocks uphill.

"It seems my estimations of the path of the falling rocks was off by two point eight meters."

Trip had to laugh. "That was plenty close enough for me, thank you. I can't tell you how delighted I am about your Vulcan ears right now."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, trying to decide if he were being humorous. Trip caught on "I mean it. Without you, I could just as well have been two meters ahead, right in their path." T'Pol nodded, appreciating the truth of his statement, and came to sit next to him.

She looked uphill again. "It seems to have been an exceptional event. I think we can resume our climb."

"Not so fast." Trip restrained her with a hand on her arm. "We Humans have stress release networks that get triggered when this type of stuff happens, it's called the fight or flight reflex. Now we have to wait until the hormones clear out of my system." He could actually feel the adrenaline levels dropping.

He sensed through the bond a small feeling of surprise at how differently the Human body worked, and surprise that this would still be a surprise after all these years, and caring and concern about him. "I'll be all right" he drawled. "Actually, if we were at battle stations, it wouldn't bother me in the least bit." He looked around "But seeing we're on shore leave, in the middle of a hike up a mountain, on a beautiful day, why not take the time and appreciate what we have."

He just sat there, savoring the feeling of having narrowly escaped something pretty bad, letting the suns heat him up again as the dust slowly cleared the air, the feeling of the wind cooling his skin, the heat receding from his face to his neck, time spent in companionable silence. "So, how about a picnic break?" He smiled at her.

She looked at the surrounding air with almost repugnance. "It would be difficult to protect the food from the dust. Even if we could find a way, it will deposit on the plates and utensils."

"Plates and utensils? No, no, no, that's not how picnics work. I'm talking about the real thing, caveman-like, just us, the food, and our hands."

She shot him a look of pure apprehension and he couldn't suppress a giggle. She raised her eyebrow at him "Really? Commander?" and got up in a huff to start climbing up the slope.

Trip got to his feet and started after her, still chuckling. That had gone a long way towards lowering his blood pressure.

xx

Acting Captain Hoshi Sato was stuck having to take Enterprise out of orbit under duress because of some made up emergency by a self-important Federation official, but Lieutenant Malcolm Reed was not so beholden, and, even though he didn't think it would extend quite that far, he had the services of a certain Section at his disposition if it turned out there was something really, really off with their being sent to Braputer. Other than delusions of grandeur of the bureaucratic type.

In the meantime, he was not in the best of moods where certain Federation personnel were concerned and he had collected a pile of newspaper clips, official announcements, Federation legislative structure and rules and assorted epages that were waiting for him on his padd. He was going to go through each one of them with a fine-toothed comb until he had figured out who that Freeholder Yonde was, his connection to Executive Wygdeld of 'this is a Federation emergency' fame, and what could be cooking, galaxy-wise, behind the request. He had a full day to do so. Come to think of it, that was a lot more fun than shore leave, though he would have to be careful not to step afoul of Reg. M-2552.02. Seeing all three senior officers aboard Enterprise nailed by the reg was as good a deterrent as Starfleet could have imagined.

He focused his attention back on the padd. He couldn't believe it would be that Executive Wygdeld was so new, so raw, that he didn't know it was an infraction to declare an emergency situation where there was none. Or that there would be retributions if he did. If the man knew enough to check the text of Reg. M2552, which few would be able to find on the database even with two hands, he was not a newbie.

So if Wygdeld was not a newbie, he knew very well that he had falsely invoked an emergency situation to provide a ride for Freeholder Yonde. Which could mean so many things, starting with the fact Yonde was at peril for his life and there was no time for Wygdeld to go through proper channels and extract him. Totally on the other side of the spectrum was an illicit alliance between the two men, possibly based on a corruption scheme, and their participation in a criminal enterprise. In between lay everything other possibility. If they were even both who they claimed to be.

Somehow, and he couldn't figure out whether this was a personality bent of his, Reed kept thinking 'arms'. He respected his own sixth sense as a, former, Section 31 agent to pay attention to his inner voice. There was a bloodhound in him that had fire in its eyes as it caught the scent of the trail. He would trace the trail back to what those two were involved with, and how they got there.

xx

Archer wished T'Pol had taken shore leave like she was supposed to. Then Trip would be alone and he would have a partner-in-crime to visit Lupsypso. Partner-in-crime didn't quite fit where no crime was or would be committed, with Trip being happily bonded and he himself in a long-distance long-term relationship with Erika, but they could have enjoyed the time off shooting the breeze without having to worry about anything female or relationship-related. Instead, he was visiting Ahrijht alone, dining alone, doing a lot of reading. But he was resting. And still thinking about Enterprise. So altogether he wasn't sure that was quite the panacea Starfleet had imagined it to be.

But it did feel good to be planetside and to feel the suns on one's skin, to walk around looking no different from everyone else, to not have the constant pressure of the responsibility of one hundred other souls on his shoulders. He had passed that mantle off to Hoshi, all he could do was hope that he had trained Hoshi well and that her shoulders were broad enough.

The experience would be good for her, there was no crisis in perspective, nothing that would pull her away from orbit. Three days of having to deal with daily reports, learning about the other side of command, the one where nothing happened for days on end and the only event of note was someone's pet's hangnail, animal or vegetal. She would be grateful for the excitement when the three days were over and the shore leave crew came back on board.

xx

As they were getting near the top of the mountain, steps appeared carved directly in the rock. Many steps. Almost as many as along the sides of the sinkhole in which their city center was located. Trip looked up at the steps ahead then back at T'Pol. Most of the red dust that had covered her had been brushed off in the climb, except that her hair had a reddish tint and the red dust gave her skin a pink glow that Trip found entirely out of place.

He took it as a measure of how much he liked her just the way she was. It had been an early concern of hers that he harbored the misconception that she was a human female in a skin-thin Vulcan wrap. And he had had to be careful not to fall into that easy trap and expect behaviors from her that were both foreign and unnatural for her species. Over time he had come to appreciate and actually realize, not simply hold the mere intellectual knowledge of it, that she was an alien. And now looking at her with a pink glow that he found incongruous made him realize how far he had come and that what he wanted was his alien wife, not some Vulcan-looking Human.

He also knew that the red particulate layer was not to his own advantage, turning his hair orange or pink, where was a mirror when you needed one, and his skin flamingo. Not counting the rivulets of red that called attention to the location of his many sweat glands. Sometimes he could swear that's all he was made of. Talk about reminding T'Pol he was not Vulcan. Of course, it was much easier for her to remember he was Human through and through, being on a Human ship with a species that emoted and verbalized at the slightest opportunity.

"Shall we go?" Trip was still looking at the steps.

"It would be illogical to stop now when we only have seventy-eight steps left."

 _No worries that she might be Human inside, no. And good to know there were seventy-eight steps._

A dainty arched eyebrow was her only acknowledgement that he might have broadcast his thoughts a little louder than he intended.

The seventy-ninth step propelled them onto a flat area with the remnants of stone structures set around the perimeter in a manner that was too geometric to be coincidental. So those were the Ulaih ruins. Trip followed T'Pol as she pulled her tricorder and started recording everything that could possibly be recorded about the structures. Trip hesitated at first but after all Phlox did say she could use her tricorder now and then, and it would have been downright cruel to prevent her from geeking out while on shore leave. He followed her from ruin to ruin, some more complete than others, remnants of castles or temples that used to overlook the sandy plains. The whistling of the wind as it went through hollows in the stones and structures sounded like the battle cries of ancient armies, or the wails of their captives. Some stones still held faint lines of signs or symbols or images whose significance had been erased by centuries of the elements.

"Do we know what these were?"

T'Pol looked up from her tricorder. "It is believed these were ceremonial grounds where armies prepared for the ancestral wars and sacrificed their captives afterwards. They were also used for the execution of prisoners. Each structure had a dedicated use. This one was for the storage of skulls. Or what over time became skulls."

Trip looked around, swallowing. "And we're sure these are no longer being used?"

An eyebrow rose. "The ancestral wars were four thousand years ago. Having a barbaric history is not a harbinger of the future." The mental image of Surak stepping over a bloody lirpa fluttered in the wind.

An hour later, Trip had walked the grounds again and again in all directions and looked at the ruins from all angles. He went to find T'Pol where she was mesmerized by the cornerstone of a foundation.

"Take all the time you want, I am going to take a nap."

"Where will you be?"

Trip pointed to the third structure on the right "See how the portico shades the flat stone at its base? That's where you'll find me." T'Pol took note and turned back to the cornerstone.

Trip laid down on the stone with a sigh of comfort. This had turned out to be the best day yet. A little exercise, a little adrenaline, a little culture, and now a little nap. And they still had the rest of the day and the evening ahead of them.


	5. Contagion 5 Perchance To Dream

Trip was hearing voices. One of them was Archer's voice. He listened more closely.

"I want to see my officers" Archer glared at the uniformed soldier on the other side of the low desk. The receiving room was small, with a well weathered wood plank floors, a couple of desks, and on a long bench, a few people waiting for their loved ones or family members, mostly women and older children. It looked straight out of an old western.

The soldier looked at him, smiling slightly, while keeping a very demure attitude. Only the insignia on his inch-high collar indicated he was the leading ranking officer. "No visits are allowed, you won't be able to see either of them today or any other day until they have been seen by a judge. But if they're innocent, they will be released right away. We are a civilization of law and order, Captain."

"How do I know they're ok? They are not of the same world as you, their nutritional requirements are different. Actually, they should not be subject to your laws."

"I understand, Captain, but I was not the one who arrested them. Government officers arrested them. And the Government will release them if they turn out to not present a threat."

"A threat?!" Archer thought for sure he was going to choke. "These are Starfleet officers you are holding! The only reason we are on your planet is because your government asked for our help. Who do I need to talk to that has a minimum of common sense around here?!"

The soldier frowned. "Are you making aspersions against a representative of the government, Captain?"

Archer spread his hands. "Absolutely not. But I need to see my officers. And you need to release them."

"I am sorry that I cannot oblige you, Captain. Please, now return to your ship. Your officers will not be released today, there is going to be an investigation." The alien captain paused, seemed to think. "I do understand the situation you are in, captain. If you want to bring food and items of first necessity for your officers, we will make sure it is handed to them."

Archer eyed the soldier suspiciously. Part of him wanted to believe him and part of him didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

"I will talk to my doctor, we will bring supplies tomorrow."

He needed to let T'Pol know.

"T'Pol" Trip called out, hoping that somehow she was around, he would get an answer. "T'Pol!" he repeated. She had to be around. After all, they had been arrested together, something about their disrespecting the part of the city they were in because they were using their tricorder. He didn't know what they wanted with them or why they were holding them. Initially, he had thought Jonathan would quickly spring them, but as the day turned into night and nothing happened, that hope had been dialed down to a dim glow.

"T'Pol!" he called again, urgency shading his voice. Where was she? They had been manacled and blindfolded, then thrown into that cell. They, he didn't know what they were, only that there were a few of them, had come back, taken her or someone else, he assumed it was her, that there was nobody else in the cell with them. Hours had gone by and then the door had opened again, there had been the noise of a body being thrown inside, and then the door had been locked and they had left.

Ever since, he had been trying to get her to answer, hopeful that it was her they had brought back, unable to crawl to her, tied as he was to a stake in the wall.

Suddenly a low moan resounded in the tight cell, making his blood freeze. "T'Pol, is that you?" he lurched forward, hoping that somehow the bounds keeping him tied to the wall would break or loosen, but they didn't. He stayed on his knees, half upright, trying to gauge where she was in the cell, if it was indeed her.

"T'Pol, you have to say something!" _Brilliant, Tucker, that was brilliant_. "Can you speak?"

He waited long minutes for any other sign of life, but there were none. Something told him she had passed out. She was hurt and he couldn't even see where she was or do anything about it.

"T'Pol?" Trip asked again, as he had every hour or so for the past five hours. Well he imagined it was every hour or so, it may well have been every ten minutes, but it felt like an hour each time.

Finally, a long time after, he heard her again, "T'Pol?" She was still in the cell. She couldn't see him because of the blindfold. "…Trip." she said in a half-whisper.

"Are you all right?" She would garner from his voice that they had not interrogated him. She was the one who had been using the tricorder, they must look at him as an unwilling accomplice.

"There is no permanent damage" she replied. To say she was fine would have been a gross misrepresentation, too far from the truth. He knew she hoped that he would be satisfied with that answer and not ask any further question. He knew she just wanted to go back to sleep.

There was a sharp intake of breath and he called to her again "Those bastards! Can you talk?"

"I need to sleep."

Trip's head raised in anxiety. T'Pol never needed to sleep. A cold feeling wrenched his gut. He needed to keep her talking, keep her from falling asleep, if she fell asleep, she may never wake up again. And he had to make it seem seamless, if she picked up on that he was trying to keep her awake she would just ignore him, turn to her side and go right to sleep.

"What did they ask you? Did they say why they arrested us? Other than the bullshit excuse about the tricorder."

He could hear she was making an effort to talk. "They repeated the scanning had angered the gods. It was the tricorder. I explained that we had been asked to come down to the surface by their government." Her mind replayed the scene, the half-dozen uniformed soldiers around her, the interrogation, and then the cold fury that had animated their blows. If she had been Human she would have shuddered at the thought. "They didn't believe me."

Silence fell. Trip realized too much time was going by. He needed to keep her talking. "T'Pol?!" he called again, imperiously. He could hear the rustle of her uniform as she slowly came back to a conscious state, just so she could answer him.

The door to the cell opened and Trip looked up, even though he couldn't see anything through the blindfold. He didn't know what time it was or how long he had been talking to T'Pol, but she had yet to fall fully asleep.

The blindfold was yanked from his head and he looked up into the face of the alien captain. "The government has confirmed that they asked you to visit the ruins. We have no reason to hold you anymore."

Trip looked down and around until he found T'Pol's body. She was prone on the ground, eyes half-open. Trip looked back at the captain, trying to blink the light away, really worried that they would not let her go. "Do you mean we can leave?"

The alien nodded. "Yes, we just have a simple formality for you to sign and then you can be on your way."

Trip narrowed his gaze "A simple formality?"

"We just want to make sure your government understands your friend was hurt by the angry mob because she was scanning the temple grounds and that we protected her." The captain calmly stared at Trip.

Trip bit his lip. It was obvious that if he didn't sign they wouldn't let her go. Just as obvious as the fact she needed prompt medical treatment. He might regret it later, Archer may slap him down for it, but his single overriding imperative had just become to get her out of there.

"I'll sign" he said. "But only if we can get out right away. No waiting"

The alien smiled. This was actually a help from their perspective. "Of course." He said.

Less than an hour later, Trip was standing outside the police station, holding a semi-conscious T'Pol against him as if she had had one drink too many and he was seeing her home. It had taken all their combined strength to have her get out on her own power, even if he was providing most of that power. He just knew that if the aliens realized how badly she was hurt they wouldn't let her go rather than run the risk of being found out.

He flipped his communicator open "Trip to Enterprise"

"Trip!" Jonathan's voice rang over the intercom, happy to see him.

"Two to transport right away, Captain. T'Pol needs medical attention."

Phlox washed his hand under the sonic jet, came over to where Archer and Trip were waiting.

"Well?" Trip asked.

"It's a good thing you prevented her from falling asleep, Commander" Phlox was saying. "She has a bad fracture of the skull and she's doing very badly. Very badly indeed." He looked at Archer "It's also a good thing you signed a false statement to get her back here as soon as possible."

Phlox turned to Archer "But she will be fine, eventually. I am putting her on sick leave for the next week, Captain."

Archer nodded. Phlox usually counted in hours and days, for him to count in days and weeks, things must be dire indeed.

"Let me know when she wakes up." Trip said.

"Why?" Archer turned in surprise at Trip.

Trip repeated "Why? Because she's my wife."

Archer seemed to mull it over, then nodded. "You're right. Phlox, I'll come by at the end of my shift."

xx

That didn't make sense. So much of it didn't make sense.

Trip opened an eye, taking a moment to take in his surroundings. There was someone looking at him that he couldn't place, the lights of sickbay making a halo around his head. No, her head. An angel. The features were shaded, the sun filtering through her hair. He knew that hair, that was T'Pol.

"Are you awake?" she asked.

Trip blinked. The world around him was slowly morphing back into the blues of the Lupsypso skies and the red siennas of the ground, and the hardness of the stone he had been sleeping on.

He pulled himself up, looking at her. "That was quite a dream I had. Are you okay?" Then he looked at the tricorder hanging at her side. "Nobody had an issue with your scans?"

She blinked in confusion, trying to process the meaning behind his words. "I am fine. I believe we are the only ones here. The ruins are remote and well documented and I expect few Iustreans wish to undertake the exploration themselves." There was a hesitancy to her tone as she attempted to fathom Trip's incomprehensible questions. He had only been asleep for one point two hours and she had been 'okay' before he went to take a nap, it was not logical for him to expect things to be different just because he had momentarily lost his conscious connection to her. The Ulaih Ruins had been deserted when they arrived and she would have awakened him if other visitors had shown up. He was at times illogical like most Humans were but his thought processes had always been rational. These questions didn't stem from a rational place.

She was studying him intently under the guise of an air of impassivity. His heart rate had increased by 12.3%, his respiration rate by 1.2 seconds, and his body temperature was a little elevated though it remained within the standard normal range for a human male his height and weight, albeit at the upper level of the range. That was one of the questions she had had for Dr. Phlox early on and she regularly updated the range. She didn't know if the slight increase in the figures came from systemic arousal as a result of the dream or if the dream was brought on by other systemic changes. She had rushed over to his side, warned by the agitation of the bond that things were awry. She had found him sleeping soundly, going through an episode of REM sleep in the middle of the day, but there were no threats in sight that would explain the anxiety that permeated the bond. She had not wanted to startle him out of what seemed to be an active dream but fortunately he had woken up right after.

Vulcans didn't dream and she was at a disadvantage in terms of understanding the mechanisms that underlay that particular form of emotional processing. Perhaps it was a Human reaction to the stress of the falling rocks that had led to the active dreaming episode. She mentally went over the academic knowledge she had collected about Human functioning but could not find anything that shed light on the issue. And because of Regulation M-2552.02 she could not reach out to Phlox for advice as she always did whenever she was stumped by questions about her Human bondmate. Which was still fairly often.

She looked at him with narrowed eyes "Are you feeling fine? You were sleeping very soundly."

"I'm perfectly fine." Trip reassured her. He looked around, still unsure. "Archer didn't come?"

That earned him a double eyebrow. "Why would Captain Archer come to the Ulaih Ruins? Have you talked to him?"

Trip chuckled "Not at all. It was just the dream. Nothing to worry about, just my unconscious at work." He was starting to feel the adrenaline leveling off. That had been such an unpleasant, vivid dream. He looked into the almond-shaped eyes of his wife, wishing very hard that it had only been a bad dream, some construct of his unconscious, nothing to do with real life and certainly nothing premonitory. He was trying to figure out if anything could explain the dream, realized all of it could easily find its meaning in relation to M2552. The guards as a symbol of their enforced shore leave, Archer, T'Pol and him, those who were caught by the regulation, and Phlox, of course. Yes, that must have been it.

Another thought came to him, something much more innocuous. Food had been prominent in it. Perhaps it was simply that he was hungry, a form of low blood-sugar episode. He turned to T'Pol, feeling very protective of her, as if she were still at risk. This time he would not kid around with Vulcan's cultural hang-ups. "How about we eat? A civilized picnic with forks and knives?"

T'Pol eyed him silently for several seconds, then nodded. She would keep observing him over the next couple of days and contact Phlox if anything seemed out of place. She started extracting eating implements from their bags while Trip stretched the slumber out of his limbs, passing a hand over the nape of his neck, reassuring himself that everything was fine. Soon he felt ready to take on the rest of the day.

Then why did he feel a shiver down his spine, as if his mind wanted to warn him of something he was not seeing?


	6. Contagion 6 Questions

Reed powered down his padd, set it on the table next to his tray. It was late at night and he had finished reviewing everything he could find about Yonde and Wygdeld. And everything checked out. He couldn't find any reason to be suspicious. And yet.

And yet.

There was something that was bothering him, right on the edge of his mind. If he could just figure out what it was. He knew it must have come from all the materials he had read, somewhere, something didn't add up.

The door to the mess hall opened, interrupting his thoughts, and Hoshi came in, making a bee line for the replicators. The mess hall was usually fairly empty that late in the night, but with half the crew on Lupsypso, the place was downright deserted. They were actually the only two people there. Reed cleared his throat to make sure Hoshi wouldn't leave the room without seeing him.

As expected, as soon as she realized he was there, she came over, cup of tea in hand. He conspicuously looked at the dessert plate in her other hand, then at her. She shrugged. "I'm taking the Enterprise away on Federation orders without Captain Archer knowing anything about it. I'm not exactly worried about calories right now." She sat down "I'm more worried about his reaction when he finds out."

Malcolm nodded. He certainly could understand this was not going to be an easy conversation. And even though Archer's ire would not be directed at Hoshi, not theoretically, it remained that she was not only the messenger, she was also the actor who had taken his ship without letting him know. Not a good combination.

"You told someone on the planet we were going to be away for a couple of days?"

Hoshi nodded. "I cleared it with planetary authorities, of course. And I also left vidmails for the senior officers, they'll find out as soon as they get back to the spaceport."

"And if they don't?"

Hoshi stared at Malcolm in puzzlement. "What do you mean if they don't, they'll have to transport back up at some point."

"What if they try to get to Enterprise before they transport up? Some kind of emergency. Like Trip breaks a leg on a hike with T'Pol." Of course, he had selected Trip as the one that something would happen to. What were friends for?

Hoshi frowned, unaware that she had the cutest little dip between her eyebrows when she frowned. Malcolm smiled inwardly, intent on not letting her find out for fear she would school the frown out of her expressions. Plus he wasn't done yet with what he needed to tell her. He raised the tension up a bit. "And then there's the science teams."

"What about the science teams?"

"Who do they go to in case of emergency?"

"Well, the science teams will reach out to—" Hoshi's voice trailed as she realized the person the science teams would reach out to was sitting across the table from her.

She grabbed her head with both hands, resting her elbows on the table. "The three most senior officers are all on mandatory shore leave, thanks to Phlox" she was going over the communication chain, talking out loud "Of course, I have to call the fourth most senior officer back to Enterprise and completely screw up the chain of command on the planet." At that Malcolm gave a little nod and a smile. "Who else is left down there that everyone would go to in case of emergency?" That was a rhetorical question, and Malcolm knew better than to answer. "They'll go to Archer, M2552 or not, that's what I would do. And he'll reach out to—" she let her words trail. It was obvious there was a missing link in there. She looked at Malcolm. If only she hadn't called him back to the ship. But then what? Leave him down on the planet just in case someone got a splinter before the three days were up? She needed him with her, on Enterprise, in case they ran into trouble of the armed kind. Enterprise needed him.

She shook her head. "What should I have done?" She didn't mind asking Malcolm for guidance. She had no issue acknowledging that she didn't have all the experience. Only self-important idiots tried to pretend they were born to command, taking their crew and their ships down with them in their pretense that what they were doing was the correct course of action, even when they didn't know any better.

"The chain of command is a chain. If you take out one of the links, you have to think about replacing it so the chain is uninterrupted." Malcolm felt he was being overly didactic. He leaned towards Hoshi. "Listen, you did the right thing, calling me back to Enterprise. Not because I am the fourth in command, as acting captain you outrank me, but because I am the chief security officer and you are going out on a limb based on the dubious call of a dubious Federation executive."

He sighed, leaning back again. "The issue here is that I was both the highest ranking officer on the planet and the chief security officer you needed on Enterprise. Getting me back on Enterprise was the right call, but without Enterprise in orbit or me on the surface you now have a bunch of loose Starfleet personnel on the planet without a central contact point. Alerting the spaceport and leaving vidmails for the Captain and the Commanders when they emerge from shore leave exile was by the book." Malcolm leaned forward again. "But the textbooks are blind and dumb to real life. There's two days before the seniors can be reached when nobody's in charge down there. And not so much about being in charge but about a central contact point in case of emergency."

Hoshi looked stricken and Malcolm's heart went out to her. But she had already figured it out. "I should have named a replacement for you until Captain Archer was out from M-2552. And pushed a communication out to everyone – except for the Captain and the Commanders. Your replacement would alert them as soon as they came out." She couldn't believe she didn't do it, wrought up in the stress of having to take the Enterprise out, led to think it was a quick one day out, one day back, making it seem like time would stand still until they were back in orbit.

Malcolm nodded. "Sometimes it's just thinking about the worst case scenario, and building back from that." And it was well-known that Reed was a master at the worst case scenario. His prudence had finally started to bleed onto the rest of the crew, that and their now long-ish experience with the unexpected. Except for T'Pol. Vulcans were by nature and experience also masters of the worst case scenario.

Hoshi was mulling it over. "I'll suggest a new procedure for the captain. A kind of tag-list so that if the tag person is no longer there" she looked meaningfully at Malcolm "everyone knows who the next in line is. And whether they're it." And that would be on top of the usual roster and the emergency roster, a kind of shit-hit-the-fan-and-our-ship-is-gone list. Space was dangerous. She had been right all along.

It was time. Malcolm smiled at her. "Since I have vastly more years and experience than you, I would be a poor command officer if I let that happen. I took the liberty of naming Ensign Adigo as the command contact on the planet and asked him to let everyone know."

"Malcolm! Oh my gosh, thank you!" Hoshi's face lit up with relief. She laughed, a self-conscious little laugh, and blushed at the same time.

Malcolm leaned back, grinning at her. He knew she would never forget. But he had something else in mind, was already on to it. "You're going to finish that?"

Hoshi chuckled and pushed the dessert plate to the center of the table, between the two of them. He fished out the fork on his tray and they proceeded to polish off the rest of the cake. In spite of everything, she was still able to appreciate how romantic it was, the two of them in a dark and deserted mess hall, sharing a piece of cake. They started talking about sweet nothings, as they were wont to do when duty wore off. Finally, the plate stood long empty, the cups were dry, and the mutual pleasure of the company had to yield to the cold and unyielding reality. They pushed off the table almost as one.

"When are we arriving at Braputer?" Malcolm asked.

"Travis says we'll be there before midday." Hoshi took a step away from the table.

"So, I'll see you…?" she knew that was Malcolm's way of asking if they were going to spend the night together.

"Captain Sato will be on the bridge in the morning." Hoshi ruefully replied. As acting captain, she was responsible for forty odd souls on Enterprise and she didn't want to let her guard down even for a second. She couldn't afford to. Maybe once she'd had her own ship for years. And if they were in a completely tranquil area of space where nothing bad could happen. Malcolm would understand. And it was only for a couple of days.

As she left the mess hall, it hit her that what she was feeling was the loneliness of command.

xx

The Commanders were silent on the way back, exhausted from the climb and the day, still carrying residual red dust in the folds of their clothes. When they arrived at the ground floor of the city center, Trip let T'Pol go up ahead, staying behind to marvel at the mechanism of the elevator that had scooped them to the bottom of the sinkhole.

As he was fishing in one of the backpack pockets for the room pass before starting up to their floor, he saw another hummingbird on the ground. He stared at it for a while, uncertain. The bird stopped and seemed to be trying to get its balance, teetered in place, then fell on its side, obviously dead. The sheen was already disappearing from its feathers.

Behind him, the innkeeper gave a sharp exclamation, making him jump in surprise. He sped past Trip's shoulder and went to pick up the dead l'lieoih. "What would you know?" he was talking at Trip, showing him the dead bird in his three-fingered palm. "This is the tenth I've picked up in this corner today. After what you told me this morning, I went upstairs, and there were dead l'lieiohs at every floor. Every floor! I've never seen this before. And we're not the only ones. The central disposal unit is full of them. Hundreds of them." He stood there, shaking his head, absorbing Trip in his profound sense that something was off in the world.

All Trip wanted to think about at the moment was a sonic shower, a bed, and a meal, preferably in that order. He nodded absent-mindedly at the innkeeper, not wanting to be buttonholed into another long monologue about some aspect of the Iustrean world. But the innkeeper was too wrought up in the mystery of the dying l'lieoihs to socialize and he veered off towards the back offices, muttering to himself, dead hummingbird in hand.

T'Pol was coming out of the shower as Trip stepped in, not having bothered to wrap herself in towels. The sight gave Trip a boost that his body felt too tired to act upon. Which was just as well. She raised an eyebrow at him but refrained from commenting on the endless nature of the Human sexual drive. When Trip came out of the shower, she had figured out the newspad on the wall and set up the Universal Translator for an automatic rendering of the news on Lupypso – several channels at a time, the way she preferred.

Trip smiled to himself, unsure that he wanted to interrupt the bliss of shore leave even for one moment to catch up on current events, especially on an alien planet where these would really have nothing to do with him, while recognizing that his Vulcan wife was driven by her species' thirst for knowledge and endless curiosity. To each their social construct. He would always be grateful that she gratified a certain form of his Human need for social connection. The least he could do in return was to amiably grant her own form of sophophilia.

His attention was abruptly brought back to the screen. If he wasn't mistaken, the name of Ahrijht had just come up. T'Pol noted his increased interest and raised the sound above the minimum level necessary for Vulcan hearing. They discovered that the hummingbirds were the great topic of conversation in the area. Dead l'leioihs didn't number in the tens or the hundreds, like the innkeeper seemed to say, but in the thousands and tens of thousands.

Trip turned to T'Pol. "What do you think that's about?"

"It seems to be some type of epizootic. What is intriguing is that this world has never seen it before. The l'lieoihs are indigenous to Lupsypso, and the Iustrean civilization is thousands of years old. It does not seem possible that an epidemic event of this magnitude has never happened before."

Trip mulled on that for a while. "Could it be an alien virus that was somehow picked by the hummingbirds and mutated?"

"That could happen." T'Pol was thinking out loud. "If it is an alien virus, the native population would have no defenses against it. In similar situations, the death rate can easily surpass 90%."

Trip felt a sense of sadness. Pretty much all the hummingbirds would die. But the ten percent that was left would flourish again. It might take years, but eventually the swarms of l'lieoihs would be back, along with their nectar.

He noticed that T'Pol was staring at the screen. He knew her so well that he could read her state of mind in a simple tilt of her head. She was concerned. "What is it?" he asked

"If this was not originally an alien avian virus, it could break immunological barriers again and infect the Iustreans. Another mutation. The l'lieoihs would be the reservoir and the vector of the new illness."

Trip grew sober. "Let's hope that's not the case." He thought a while "Perhaps even if it crosses the animal to person barrier, it'll be a mild one, like a 24-hour flu or something."

T'Pol nodded but her thoughts were already somewhere else. "I need to send the specimen that died this morning to Dr. Phlox." She went to her duffel bag.

"Don't you remember we cannot reach out to Enterprise." Trip gently reminded her. "Not unless it's one of those exceptions that's pre-baked in the regulation."

"But this could be a medical emergency."

"Not yet. This is what'ya call it – an epizootic. I don't think Starfleet would be too kindly inclined if we broke the rules because of sick hummingbirds, however many there are. With our track record, they'd think we're trying to play hooky from shore leave."

"Play hooky?"

Trip had to laugh. He just never had the opportunity to use that expression before and had forgotten that T'Pol may not be familiar with it. He passed a hand through his hair.

"Let's see, something tells me that on Vulcan kids would rather go to school than hang out with their friends or go explore the outside or play ball..."

"Of course, it would be illogical to deprive oneself of the satisfaction of studying for less fulfilling pursuits."

 _Yes, he was going to have some explaining to do_. "Well, it's not quite the same on Earth. I mean, there's going to school and studying, but sometimes kids would rather do their own thing." Trip felt like there was a morass opening under his feet. On a personal level and as a representative of his entire culture. "There's really a lot to explain about playing hooky. It's as much a concept as an expression. How about we order dinner and I can take the time and explain?"

"If you wish." T'Pol's mind was still on the question of the l'lieoihs. "If the virus mutates to the dominant humanoid species on Lupsypso, Enterprise has a moral obligation to help. If we send the specimen ahead to Enterprise, Dr. Phlox will have more time to find a treatment." T'Pol laid out the premises, hoping Trip would let himself be swayed by the inherent logic.

But one of the many reasons he was her bondmate was his ability to counter her arguments with a logical progression of his own. "If the virus mutates. We don't know that it's going to jump species and so far it has not. Phlox will have plenty of time to react." Trip was studying the room service menu.

He looked up at her "How fast can this thing spread, anyway?" She knew from long association that he was not expecting an answer. Which was good, as she didn't have an answer to give him.


	7. Contagion 7 The Plot Thickens

Perhaps the gods of space would heed her silent pleas and nothing would happen on the way to pick up the envoy. Or on the way back. Hoshi was worried about breathing too hard lest it upset the delicate balance of the universe and a squadron of Orion pirates suddenly appear on the main screen of the bridge. She stopped herself mid-thought – there were no Orion pirates appearing on the screen, where there? Once she had reassured herself everything was proceeding normally, she slumped back in the captain's chair.

She had talked to Hess about increasing their speed and getting to Braputer faster, but the engineer had let her know she would need almost all the engineering crew back if she went above warp three. She had assured her, and Travis had confirmed, that they could do the round-trip in under two days, including the pick-up. Hoshi was drumming her fingers on the armchair rest, on pins and needles with the tension of not knowing what she was waiting for.

All of a sudden it all became too much and she shot out of the chair to start pacing around the bridge. And understood about all those times she wondered whether Archer was incapable of sitting still, like some hyperactive kid.

Talking about kids. Half the bridge complement was made of kids. They had been the ones that automatically drew the short straw because they were too junior and wouldn't even be allowed to compete for shore leave on alien planets until they'd had at least a year of deep space under their belt. So she had Travis, Malcolm and her, as people who actually knew what they were doing, and then every other station was manned by someone who looked like they should still be in high school. Which got her back to silently praying, crossed fingers and everything, that the gods of space would heed her silent pleas and nothing would happen on the way to pick up the envoy. Or on the way back.

She forced herself to sit down again, conscious of Malcolm's amused smile in her back. Oh, he could smile alright. He wasn't the one taking Enterprise from Archer. She resisted the urge to turn around and stick her tongue out at him. Instead, she was going to think about all the many ways she could get back at him for that.

xx

Trip was looking at the innkeeper, noting the pronounced golden glow to his skin, the white-less eyes shining blacker than usual it seemed, but he didn't pay too much attention. He would have liked to do nothing better than to stay holed up in the hotel room, just doing what the doctor ordered, resting. But a Vulcan mind needed a steady diet of stimulation or it would engage in non-stop meditation and he didn't go on shore leave, however forced it was, to spend the entire time with a meditating T'Pol. He had rested, she had meditated, and now they were having a very late breakfast or very early lunch before another round of exploring. Strictly within the city centers this time.

"Ready to play tourist?" he asked as T'Pol finished her breakfast.

"Play tourist?"

"Do our best to not look like Iustreans, walk around town slowly with our nose up in the air, looking at everything as if we've never seen it before, talk loud in Vulcan, buy over-priced merchandise, complain about the food and the heat—"

"Wear loud tropical print shirts?"

Trip had to laugh. "We'll have to buy new ones, I got rid of mine when we got married." He smiled at her "Best day of my life."

That earned him one of T'Pol's rare smiles. Her mouth didn't move but she smiled at him in her eyes and across the bond. "It is also a favored memory of mine."

He briefly grabbed her hand, the equivalent of a full-body hug. Over time, they had figured out where the thin line laid that allowed him free expression of his Human emotions without overpowering her synaptic defenses. Or he would have had an angry Vulcan with unbridled erotic passions on his hands all the time. Vulcans really didn't have much range or dial-back mechanisms when it came to emotions. An interesting evolutionary quirk.

They walked outside, on the ground level of the sinkhole. Two of the suns were already up, the third one would be rising as the first one finished its course. It kept the days not too short, and the heat fairly high, even more so while all three suns were up. When only one sun was up, either early in the morning or late in the evening, it was no hotter than a dry summer day on earth. There were about as many l'lieoihs fluttering around in the air as there were dead on the sidewalk. Every hundred feet or so large video screens high up in the air projected the latest news story to the world. Iustreans and aliens were bustling about, briskly engaged in business or trade or ambling with nothing specific to do. It seemed that the death of the hummingbirds was already an accepted aspect of life in a town center that had plenty of other activities to keep it focused on the future.

T'Pol paused, looking at the dead hummingbirds, saddened by the loss of life. Trip had asked how fast the virus was spreading and while she did not have the data for an accurate evaluation, it looked like it was spreading very fast. She threw an anxious look at her bondmate. Beyond the issue of immunological barriers, she was concerned about Trip possibly catching the virus. She had been feeling uneasy since the Ulaih Ruins and now she felt a chill go through her. She took it as a confirmation that she could never fully suppress her emotions where he was concerned.

xx

Acting Captain Hoshi Sato was sitting in the command chair, mentally cussing out Federation Executive Wygdeld with every curse word she knew. In Klingonese. Writing each insult in her head in high-Klingon script as she recalled them.

"We'll arrive at Braputer in an hour." Travis interrupted her linguistic exercise, which she was grateful for as she was running out of expletives. She needed more material. She made a mental note to visit the less savory alien quarters on their next planetary stop. It was too late for Lupsypso, by the time they came back shore leave would be over. Which was too bad, because it was an open and welcoming civilization with a high proportion of alien races on any given day and finding the seediest corners of Ahrijht would have been a breeze.

"Thanks, Travis. Drop to high impulse." They were too close to keep going at warp speed. Hoshi focused back on the screen, Braputer must be one of the dots of light far out ahead of the ship. She looked over at Reed at his console. Soon they would be picking up Freeholder Yonde, per Wygdeld's order. Then they would turn-around and high-tail it back to Lupsypso, and from there to wherever Freeholder Yonde told Captain Archer he wanted to go. By then, it would no longer be her headache, a fact for which she was immensely grateful.

Reed was staring at his console with a frown. He suddenly raised his head. "There's a bunch of small vessels about twelve thousand miles away on our left. Travis do you read?"

The helmsman looked at his station for a while, fiddling with the sensors. "I got them, right on the outskirts of our flight path." He projected the image on his console to the main screen, showing what looked like five shimmering black dots against a starry field.

"Ensign, magnify." Hoshi and the bridge skeleton crew looked on as the image zoomed in to reveal the detail of five small vessels speeding away. A bolt of energy lanced from one of the ships and they realized they were actually in pursuit of a sixth, smaller and hard to detect, even under magnification. The pursuing ships were catching up on it.

"Travis, catch up with those ships. Let's find out what's going on." Some inner sense was telling her this was related to the taxi run. She didn't know why but she wouldn't be surprised. Plus even if she were wrong, she instinctively disliked the picture of five bullies trying to beat up a small waif and wouldn't mind asking them what they were up to. Talk about rooting for the underdog.

It quickly became evident that the five ships were not just pursuing the sixth, they were trying to reduce it to atoms and scatter them across the universe. The small shuttle was doing crazy loop-de-loop maneuvers in its bid to evade its deadly attackers.

"Science station, what do you read?" The cadet serving the communications console slid over to the science station, turning the sensors on. Hoshi narrowed her eyes in annoyance. What did he think he was doing at the communications console? That they would talk honey into the attackers' ears and they would cease and desist? She reminded herself she had to be fair to the inexperienced cadet, even though it would be an effort. Once she was that raw, too.

The young man was reading the information off the science sensors. "The ships are all Nausicaans, sit" there was a slight pause. "Two life signs on the shuttle..." another pause. "Humans." The cadet looked up front the console.

Reed purses his mouth in a thin line. He knew it. He just knew it.

"How far are we, Travis?"

"We're still a couple of miles away, Captain, closing fast. They haven't seen us." The pursuing ships were too intent on their prey to notice that something bigger was following them.

"Lieutenant Reed, how much longer can the shuttle hold up?"

Reed narrowed his eyes at the screen. "It's getting quite a beating. It's managed to avoid most of the fire right now, but with five ships in pursuit, its luck won't hold that long. All it's going to take is a couple of direct hits and kaboom, there won't be a shuttle there anymore."

They had no time. "I need someone in the transporter room!"

Red bent to his intercom. "Security detail to the transporter room, on the double!" He turned to Hoshi "The MACOS all know how to use the transporter."

Hoshi nodded quickly. There really was no time. "Travis, are we close enough for transport?"

"Not yet, I'm getting you there."

"Transporter room?!"

"Captain" a MACO answered.

"Calibrate the transporter for Human biosigns. On my signal, you will transport two Humans aboard. I'm keeping the channel open. Transport as soon as you hear that we're in range."

"We're almost there, Captain!" the helmsman called "A few more seconds." He maneuvered the ship to align with the axis of the shuttle, still behind the Nausicaan ships.

"Now!" Travis called.

"Transporter room!" Hoshi bellowed in turn.

On the screen the shuttle exploded under the energy beams that crisscrossed its bow. Silence fell on the bridge. The battle was over.

"Transporter room, do you have them?!" Hoshi asked in the resounding silence.

"We've got the two of them, Captain." Came the reply.

Reed bent over his intercom. "Escort them to the brig right away. Full security." Hoshi threw him a startled look but she knew better than to second guess Malcolm about anything security.

The five ships had slowly become aware of the Starfleet behemoth shadowing them. Suddenly Enterprise shook as it was hit by an energy bolt from one of the smaller ships.

"Battle stations!" Hoshi shouted. The ship shook again, the five ships firing at once. "Evasive maneuvers!" She knew from the Expanse Nausicaan ships could inflict serious damage, as small as they were.

Travis tried to flee as fast as he could. It was not fast enough as the ship shook again. Hannah Hess's voice came over the intercom. "Engineering to bridge, what's going on?!"

"Just a minute Hannah. Lieutenant Reed, can you take them out without destroying them?"

"If I have to." Was Reed's curt reply. He bent over his mike "Reed to armory, bring the secondary canons on line." Reed looked up at T'Pol, wondering why she hadn't already fed him the schematics of the Nausicaan ships. Then bitterly realized it was because she wasn't there. "Science station, the schematics!" he hollered.

The ship was still taking weapons fire, buckling with each hit, not firing in turn. "Can we outrun them?" Hoshi asked the science cadet. He started fumbling with his console, nerves twisting his fingers into knots. She needed that information two minutes ago already.

Another hit shook the ship, followed by a cry from Crewman Hess "They fried the dilithium regulators, you need to get us out of here!"

Hoshi turned to Reed "Lieutenant, take their engines out! All of them!"

Reed nodded, scowling. This would be fine any other time, but the kid at the science station still hadn't fed him the schematics. He looked up. The hell with regulations and stations. In two steps he was at the science station, rudely shoving the cadet away. It took another thirteen seconds to pull the schematics, one second to feed them to the weapons station, two seconds to get back to the weapons station, three because of the beating Enterprise was taking, but finally he had the engine sections lined up in his sights.

"Now would be a good time, Lieutenant." Hoshi quipped, holding to the command chair as Enterprise was getting hit from all sides.

"Firing canons."

Twin bolts lanced from Enterprise, finding their targets. Clouds of plasma erupted from the aft of two of the Nausicaan ships as their engines were hit.

"Get the rest of them!" Hoshi shouted. The hell with those sons of _targs_.

"As you wish." The canons had already electronically reloaded and Reed pressed the fire button again. Another two bolts found their way to the third ship. This time, more than the engines were affected. The ship hung dead in space, listing at an impossible angle.

"Oops." Reed tersely commented. He briefly looked up at the screen, to see if the remaining Nausicaan ships would take heed of the fact their companions were now listless in space. But the Nausicaans were fierce warriors and not know to go down easily in battle. The two remaining ships were charging at Enterprise.

Reed sighed. He certainly didn't want to oblige the kamikaze crews by blasting them into kingdom ever come. The ship shuddered again as the ships bulls-eyed on one of the engines. "Now, you shouldn't have done that," Reed calmly said in the silence on the bridge, and he depressed the button a third time. Somehow the fire from Enterprise seemed more intense. Probably because they were closer to the ships.

One of them turned around and headed for deeper space, the scorch mark beneath its wing revealing where his engine lay closest to the outer hull. The other ship tried to keep coming at Enterprise but was somewhat hampered by the fact it couldn't manage more than low impulse speed.

Hoshi sighed. "Travis, take us to Braputer." Hoshi knew the Nausicaans would not be able to pursue them.

"I don't think that will be necessary" came a voice in her back. She turned to Lieutenant Reed in surprise. "We still have to pick up the envoy."

"Perhaps a visit to our passengers first?" Malcolm was being mysterious but she knew him well enough to know there was more to this than a simple question.

She hit the intercom "Hess, meet me in the ready room in twenty minutes. I want a full report."

"That, you'll have." Hannah's voice was morose.

"Travis, you have the con."

Hoshi knew one of the two Humans in the brig as soon as she laid eyes on him. Her mouth opened in surprise but Malcolm was faster to the draw. "Captain Sato, it is my pleasure to introduce Federation Executive Wygdeld and Freeholder Yonde. Or so they claim to be."


	8. Contagion 8 Hello? Enterprise?

They came back to the hotel in the middle of the afternoon, Trip carrying a bunch of parcels of all sizes, having made his contribution to the fine arts by buying every outfit that T'Pol found aesthetically pleasing.

There were five dead hummingbirds in front of their door, and the corridor was littered with them. Trip left T'Pol alone in the room while he walked back downstairs to find the innkeeper and let him know. The man was nowhere to be found but Trip ran into the innkeeper's wife hurrying along with a box full of dead l'lieoihs under her arm. She stopped as she saw him, smiled, but her smile was forced, that of a hostess who knows she has to smile no matter what. He inclined his head in acknowledgement, thinking that if she were as garrulous as her husband that would be enough to get her started. And it was. "My husband is sick," she gestured with the box as if it provided an explanation "Can you believe that? Yesterday he's all fine and well, and this morning he's so hot to the touch I'm almost getting burned." She wiped a sleeve across her right ear opening, still holding the box. "And now, he's at the center emergency care. He'll be there throughout the night." She sniffed again. "We don't know what's going on but he's not the only one. The care facility was so full they had to put his bed in the hallway."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, ma'am." Trip commiserated. "I hope he gets better fast." He realized she was overwhelmed being alone to take care of the inn. The l'lieoihs were dying faster than anyone could handle. There was a brief respite after each clean-up but then gradually the l'lieiohs began to appear again in numbers that went increasing until the next clean-up. He would take care of the ones in their corridor, help her in a small way. Trip wasn't sure how large the population of hummingbirds was, but he couldn't believe there were many more left. As he cleaned up the corridor, knowing it was somewhat of an exercise in futility, his thoughts were on this new development. There was no clear sign that the illness of the innkeeper and the death of the l'lieoihs were related, but the timing was a little bit close for comfort. Perhaps T'Pol was right. It may be worth a call to Dr. Phlox.

"What the -!" he exclaimed as he entered the room. Men who were engaged in thermostat wars with their wives should try living with a Vulcan. Trip rapidly stepped to the wall regulator, bringing the temperature back to something that would not outright dessiccate him. T'Pol walked out of the sonic shower at that moment and he glared at her. "I should be the one without clothes on. Do you realize how high up you had this thing?!"

She looked at him with wide eyes. "I apologize. The room seemed overly cool."

Trip sighed, a little bit surprised that she didn't snap right back at him. That was one point on which they both had had to unhappily compromise. She felt comfortable at temperatures that sent him into a heat stroke, he felt at ease at temperatures that threatened her with frostbite. "Trust me, the room is not cool. It must have been the transition from the outside to the inside." When all three suns were out, as they had been most of the afternoon, the sandy plains became a furnace. Fortunately, deep in the sink hole and mostly in the shade or high up in the hills like the Ulaih Ruins, the temperature remained bearable throughout the day even if the suns did raise it. "I'll put it a couple of degrees higher. But a couple of degrees only." He glared at her to bring his point home but she was paying him no attention, already donning a thermal suit.

He knew something was troubling her at the tone of her next question. "Perhaps your basal temperature is elevated?"

He snickered at that, she was just upset with him. "No, my body temperature is fine, thank you. I don't have a fever. The room is not cold." Getting into a snit over the temperature in their quarters was another exercise in futility. They'd already had their share of tussles about it and she would keep raising the ambient temperature and he would keep lowering it. Another of those things certain that brought a measure of comfort to otherwise nomadic lives. The conversation reminded him about the innkeeper and he quickly brought her up on his conversation with the innkeeper's wife.

The decision to contact Phlox was quickly made and T'Pol went to town collecting the specimens to send him. Trip shook his head at the sight of his wife assembling a stasis box. Unexpected mandatory shore leave and she still had managed to pack a stasis box. She went outside and came back with one or several dead l'lieoihs in the box, he couldn't see them very well. In spite of his earlier cleaning efforts, there were now another dozen hummingbird remains littering the hallway.

He watched her carefully secure the l'lieoihs in the stasis field when a detail made him frown. "Shouldn't you be wearing gloves?"

"The stasis box prevents any infection." The reply quelled Trip's concerns. This time, he was the one who turned the wall newspadd on, trying to find the proper frequency until T'Pol stepped over and recalled the display she had programmed the day before. Ahrijht was at the top of the news. And the news were grim. The total was startling. In just two days the number of dead l'lieoihs had risen by leaps and bounds and it was evident that they had a real epizootic on their hands. Some stations also mentioned several handfuls of Iustreans had gotten sick, enough to fill the local hospitals, though newscasters were careful to emphasize this might be a coincidental wave of cases from a fairly benign and common winter disease. _So that was what passed for winter on Lupsypso_ , thought Trip. _No wonder T'Pol felt cold_. He would make sure to be far away before the weather flipped to summer.

As noncommittal as they tried to be, the news confirmed that theirs was the right decision. Enterprise, with its vast repository of medical knowledge and one of the foremost physicians across several worlds, would be invaluable. T'Pol shut off the newspadd and pulled out her communicator. "T'Pol to Enterprise, this is a medical emergency. Respond Enterprise." At the sound of static that permeated the room in reply, she turned and cocked an eyebrow at Trip. He looked at her in dumbfounded silence.

Trip pulled his communicator out in turn. "Trip to Enterprise." He knew from fixing so many mechanical problems on Enterprise that the first thing one tried was the simplest, it could be that her communicator was broken. The same sound of static responded to his question. He flipped his communicator shut, looked at T'Pol.

"Probabilities are extremely low that both our communicators would malfunction at the same time."

"Let me try Malcolm," Trip replied. Once again the call went nowhere, ending in a surfeit of white noise.

"I will reach out to Ensign Adigo." This time the call seemed to connect, or at least not get lost in some network vacuum, but it remained unanswered. Now, where was the crew? And where was Enterprise?

T'Pol looked at Trip "Perhaps Captain Archer would know where the ship is?"

Trip nodded. He hadn't planned on seeing Jonathan at all during his shore leave, dinner invitation or not, he had wanted to spend it alone with his wife. But the disappearance of Enterprise was definitely an Archer-level issue. Unless it was that both their communicators were on the fritz. However unlikely that was.

Jonathan sounded like he was just waking from a nap. It was not like him to sleep during the middle of the day. Trip made a concerned face at T'Pol and the absence of reaction in her eyebrows let him know that it was not something she was concerned about.

Trip rolled his tongue against his cheek. "Listen, Jon, I'm here with T'Pol. Have you been out a lot since you went on shore leave?" He flipped the communicator on speaker for T'Pol.

"No, I've mainly been holed up here, reading and passing the time. Not much to do when one is alone." Trip let the dig roll off his back. If Jonathan couldn't entertain himself on his own, it only proved he was desperately out of practice as far as RR was concerned.

"Hum, huh, are you aware of the epizootic they're having, with the hummingbirds and stuff?"

"It would be tough to miss," Jonathan's voice was sarcastic. "I can't step out of the hotel without crushing a dozen of them and the cleaning staff is freaking out."

"Well, the thing is," Trip took a deep breath and jumped in "we're in a smaller establishment and the innkeeper just got sick. His wife told me their hospital place had so many cases they were holding them up in the hallways. And T'Pol and I think perhaps these things are related. So we decided to send a specimen to Phlox, have him check it out."

"Good thinking" Jonathan was thinking out loud. "That would fit under medical emergency, right?"

"Yeah, right. Well, the thing is, huh," Trip looked at T'Pol with the air of a dying man. "Enterprise is not responding."

"What?! Hold on a second." T'Pol and Trip waited silently while they knew that Archer was trying to reach Enterprise. When he contacted them again, they could tell by the strained tone of his voice that he had been no more successful than they were. "Any idea what's going on?"

This was a man who was showing admirable restraint. Trip was just glad he wasn't in the same room when he dropped the other shoe. "We tried contacting Malcolm and he's not responding either. Neither is T'Pol's stand-in, Adigo."

Archer's tone went from strained but restrained to uncomfortably tight. "Where are you staying?" T'Pol nodded in approval. This was the next logical question. Of course, he would want to meet with them. They were in different city centers, a couple of hours away from each other without access to private transportation. "Do you know of an eating place we can both get to?" Archer went on. Trip looked at T'Pol, interrogating her with a glance. She quickly checked her tricorder, came back with a name and address. Trip relayed the information "It's in city center 3. I don't know what the name means in Iustrean, but it says here they have Terran cuisine." He saw T'Pol's raised eyebrow from the corner of his eye, shrugged in a timeless 'what d'you want me to do' apology, he didn't think Jonathan would be in the mood to try new cuisines.

xx

"I demand that you release us. Your treatment of two Federation officials cannot be excused." If nothing else, Wygdeld had gall. Reed was coldly looking at the man behind the security glass. After their brief introduction to Hoshi, he had let the two men stew for the rest of alpha shift. He had thought that would instill some humility in them, but that hadn't worked too well. Wygdeld was carrying on as if he truly were a Federation Executive and Enterprise his ship mandated to serve. Malcolm was starting to get irritated.

"Let's take it from the top," he asked again. "Who are you?"

"I am Federation Executive Wygdeld and this is Freeholder Yonde. And you will hear from the Federation about this. I will personally ask that you are demoted and drummed out of Starfleet. And I will attend your court-martial!"

Reed didn't even bother acknowledging the threat. He looked at the prisoners with narrowed eyes. "What I'd like to know is how you got access to a private Federation comm system and were able to commandeer a ship." Well, he knew how they were able to commandeer a ship. The same way every thief did it. Brazenly and without any thought for the consequences. He inhaled deeply, squeezing the bridge of his nose "I mean, who set you up to it? It's not like the system is not chockfull with redundant security features."

The man who claimed to be Wygdeld sat down on his bunk, crossing his arms. "I am who I say I am. You can check it in the Federation database. You'll find my bio and Yonde's there."

Reed just looked at them. It was true that the two men's biographies were in the Starfleet and Federation databases. But he had a sixth sense about this. And he was rarely wrong. And even if he were wrong, which could happen even to the best men under the best circumstances, Wygdeld and Yonde would find themselves right back in the brig once Archer realized they were the reason for all the scorch marks on Enterprise, the poor ship now hobbling back to Lupsypso, the damage to its engineering section too extensive for Hess and her skeleton crew to repair in less than forty-eight hours.

They were going to be two days behind schedule. Two additional days shore leave for the crew, two days shore leave for the science team, two extra days punishment for Archer and the Commanders. Having to remain idle for two days after having had to take shore leave for three was a downright cruel joke of the universe. Reed could just imagine the mood Archer would be in when they finally pulled to port. All that free time _and_ someone took his ship without knowing, even if that someone was Hoshi _and_ his ship got damaged because of the two idiots who commandeered it. No, it would not be a pretty sight. Better for those two to remain in the brig. Actually, if they knew Archer, they might ask to be sent back to their shuttle.

He drew himself straighter "I don't give a rat's ass what the database says. I _know_ you are not who your claim to be and I _know_ you had no right to order Enterprise to Braputer. So you _are_ going to tell me who you are, you _are_ going to tell me what the deal was with the Nausicaans, and you _are_ going to tell me how you got access to the Federation's private network. Do you hear? And if I were you, I would come about it quickly. Captain Sato has a mean streak a mile wide and she is looking at bringing back the practice of keelhauling. The doctor and I are trying to talk her out of it, but she's not exactly feeling well-disposed towards you. I'm sure you know why."

The two men just eyed him silently from behind the glass partition.

"Very well" Reed turned around. "I'm off for the night. Have a nice evening and we'll talk tomorrow."

As he was leaving, the security guard stopped him. "Your orders, sir?"

Reed turned around, looking at the two men who glared right back at him. "Nothing tonight, crewman. They're not hungry."

And he left.

xx

T'Pol shivered as they stepped outside to go meet Captain Archer. The temperature was still quite warm as far as Trip was concerned but all the suns had set and he figured it was chilly for her. "D'you need a coat?"

She shook her head "The thermal suit is sufficient."

Jonathan was already waiting for them, ensconced deep in a Terran-looking booth, seeming quite out of sorts. Trip sat next to him, T'Pol on the other side. Trip started talking right away "Ensign Adigo contacted T'Pol right before we left. They were deep in some cave in the hills when she tried to reach him. It seems that Enterprise was called to pick up some Federation bigwig and they will be back tomorrow. Hoshi was made acting Captain and she called Malcolm back on board for security reasons."

Trip could see Jonathan was seething. It was his ship and someone had taken it out without his permission. Whether or not he could be reached to talk about it.

"You said a Federation Executive?"

Trip nodded. "That's what Adigo said. To pick up some Freeholder or something."

"Hoshi should have contacted me."

"Regulation M-2552-2.0 is quite clear about the complete bar on communications from ship to Captain while the regulation is in effect."

"I understand what the regulations say, T'Pol, but she should have contacted me." That statement was met by a full set of raised eyebrows. Trip knew he would have to explain about illogical Human emotions later that evening.

"And you said they'll be back tomorrow?" that last question was directed at Trip.

"Huh, huh. Adigo says that Reed told him it's one day to the other planet, one day back. They left yesterday morning, so they'll be back tomorrow mid-day or something like that." Trip waved at the tall Iustrean lumbering around with a few empty glasses. Three-fingered hands were obviously a couple of digits short when it came to picking up empty glasses.

"When is our shore leave over?" Archer thought at least he had Trip and T'Pol to talk to. If he had found out his ship was missing and not been able to contact anyone… Heads would have rolled, for certain.

"We left Enterprise at 1656 two days ago. Regulation M-2552-2.0 will no longer be in effect at 1657 tomorrow."

Trip smiled. Of course, T'Pol would be counting the minutes. There was a time when he would have felt slightly self-conscious that the pleasure of his company didn't override her attention to this kind of detail, wondering if perhaps she wasn't having a good time. He now understood that was just the way the Vulcan brain worked. She could fully enjoy their time together and still coldly count the minutes till it ended. The two tracks didn't connect emotionally, like they would with most Humans.

Before Archer could go on with a response, the collective attention of everyone in the room went to the wallpadd that dominated the room, where it was obvious something portentous was going on. There were images of people wailing, what looked like rows and rows of Iutreans lying on the floor of what seemed to be some institution, then the spaceport came into view.

"Can we get a sound?" Archer asked.

T'Pol was already fiddling with the Universal Translator setting it up in broadcast mode. A bold announcement angled across the screen in fat block letters. That, they couldn't read. A male Iustrean was speaking, the translator using a female voice instead, which seemed to irritate T'Pol. Trip would have made some snarky comment about Vulcan translators but now was not the time. They caught the last part of the announcement.

"…fecting the entire region of Ahrijht. As of this evening, all transports from and to the area from other parts of Lupsypso or from alien sectors are suspended. The province is officially under quarantine. Now, that was the official announcement. We repeat for our viewers who are just joining us, the medical authorities have suspended all travel to or from Ahrijht. Nobody is allowed out of or into the city centers at this time. We join our correspondent at the Spaceport where hundreds of travelers are effectively stranded as of this evening."

T'Pol shut off the translator. There was a long silence. "Well, I guess that's that." Trip finally commented. They were stranded on Ahrijht, they, everyone that came down on shore leave, and the science teams. It didn't really matter whether Enterprise was back or not.

Archer's thoughts were somewhere else "Enterprise won't be able to come back." He sounded mournful.

"The quarantine is only for the region of Ahrijht." T'Pol pointed out. "Enterprise can select another geostationary orbit and still be in communications range. They would have to stay outside of the dedicated quarantine zone but that would not limit ship-to-shore communications."

Archer was antsy "There's no point waiting for the end of M2552, we need to get back to the spaceport as soon as possible."

Trip could see that the concept alone was almost more than T'Pol could process. She looked at him "Playing hooky?"

He shook his head. "No — well, you know what, in a manner of speaking, yes." He knew that if the circumstances were different, she would have no compunction about bending the rules but he also knew exactly what she was going to say. He jumped ahead, not wanting Archer to take his frustration out on her. "Yeah, but how do you propose to do that? Nobody is allowed out of the city centers, remember?"

She blinked at him, then realized he had effectively mooted Archer's suggestion. She looked at Trip with relief. He smiled back at her while letting Archer silently ponder the question. That was fine, Trip knew it would take time to come up with an answer.

But T'Pol was not finished. "How are we getting back to our respective lodgings if they prevent access to and from the city centers?" A stupefied silence fell over the group. Trip suddenly jumped up from his seat. "No matter what they want people to believe, it takes time to set up a full quarantine. If we hurry, we can get through before they finish setting it up."

The three officers scrambled to leave.


	9. Contagion 9 Panic Time

They narrowly made their escape. The public transport out of city center 3 was still operative but the connection back to their inn in city center 5 was shut down by the time they arrived at the exchange station. They walked the remainder of the way, a couple of miles over the sands, hiding in the shadows they could find, then sneaking down the giant stairs, glad that the security forces had not yet been posted to bar pedestrian traffic. They arrived at the hotel in the wee hours of the morning, hormonally high from the exhilaration of having found their way past the quarantine back to comfort and safety.

Trip turned to T'Pol for a shared sense of victory but she was already on him, her mouth finding his, attacking it in that unique way she had of letting him know what she wanted. A fire erupted down his belly and he realized she was toying with him through the bond, amplifying the reaction he always had to her. He felt weak in the knees, let her assault him all the way to the bed then plopped on his back while she climbed on top of him like a cat. Her skin was even hotter than usual under his hands. She briefly let him go to divest herself of her thermal suit and help him yank his shirt off before resuming her erotic assault, pinning his hands on each side of the pillow. She was sucking on his ears and his nipples, letting her breasts rub over his chest and belly, knowing the parts that were responsive to her touch while the bond whipped him into a frenzy of excitement. She sat up, lowered his pants away from his throbbing cock and slowly lowered herself onto him, riding him slow and deep the way she liked, holding back whenever he tried speeding things up to his rhythm and climax.

When he could no longer take the stimulation he bucked up on the bed, flipping her over and onto her back, pulling and pushing the trousers off his legs as he took the lead. It was his turn to toy with her, holding both her wrists above her head in one hand, blowing and kissing the tips of her ears, biting her neck where it met her shoulder like a Vulcan would, using his free hand to slowly and leisurely stroke her in strategic places, using the physical contact to heighten the erotic reverberation through the bond. It was her turn to squirm while he brought her over and over to the edge, each time holding her back and letting the tension drop back just enough that he could start all over again. After the fifth such time he knew to stop his teasing lest he bed a feral Vulcan. Her orgasm triggered his, the bond bouncing and amplifying it, the orgasms ricocheting between the two of them until the world became a pinpoint in the primitive oceanic night of _la petite mort_. He managed to slide off her onto his side as sleep overtook him, she was already asleep as she lay.

xx

Hoshi sat down on the other side of Malcolm, dropping her tray a little bit too hard on the table. Her tea and orange juice sloshed over their respective cups and she frowned at the star shaped puddles next to her eggs and miso. Malcolm grabbed his cup of coffee, lifting it at a safe distance from the table and raised his eyebrows at her. "Having a bad day already?" It was 0600, too early for that in his book.

She sighed in exasperation. "Who wouldn't? We won't get to Lupsypso until the day after tomorrow, I have no way to reach Archer, and our two uninvited guests could be telling the truth, in which case I will have the entire Federation on my back, or they could be lying and then we have no idea what could come at us around the corner." She took a spoon and started digging into the miso soup. "You seem fairly relaxed, considering you're security and if any of this happens you'll be first in the line of fire."

Reed chuckled. "I know I'm right about those two "federation' officials. I just need to find a way to out them." He was toying absent-mindedly with the spoon in his oats, trying once again to remember what it was that had set his sixth sense on edge. But once again he came up blank.

He sighed, looked up at Hoshi. "What does Hess say?"

Obviously, what Hess said was somewhat of a sore point for Hoshi. She made a face, then shrugged off whatever passing thought was associated with it. "If you think Trip's bad about his engines…. I never realized she was just as bad as he is. That's probably why they get along so well."

Reed smiled. He had long harbored suspicions that Hess was covertly coveting his friend, but he had never noticed T'Pol subtly or less subtly going after her, and god knows T'Pol was very unsubtle when she was jealous. She was dyed-in-the-wool Vulcan-territorial about Trip, and any female within a three-mile radius better watch where she stepped. He had deducted that Hess did not trigger T'Pol's threat detector though he wasn't sure if that was because Trip was not interested or Hess was not interested. For a while there he had developed a private hypothesis that Hess was either homo-, bi- or a- sexual, but that had been proven wrong during a certain shore leave night that he had agreed, both for Hanna's and the gentleman's sake, to forget everything about. No, not really a gentleman. Cad was more like it.

He stopped in his thoughts to stare at Hoshi, curious why she was not going on. She was pensive, started speaking when she saw him looking at her. "She said it would take forty-eight hours to get us back to warp speed. The thing is, and I often wonder the same about Trip, I don't know if it's a real forty-eight hours or an exaggerated guess and we'll be able to get going much faster."

Reed nodded. "I used to wonder too if some of Trip's magic was not some really good expectations management skills. That was until we ran into those Klingon mutants and he re-started the engine cold." He twirled his spoon in his oats again. "After that, I decided he could put any timeline he wanted on anything, I would never question him again."

Hoshi smiled in her tea. "I wonder if his kids will have the mechanical gene too."

Reed started smiling.

And stopped.

And looked at Hoshi.

She looked back in surprise. "What?"

Before she could say another word, he had gotten up and was running out of the mess hall.

Hoshi stared at him go, wondering what exactly it was she had said. She knew that Malcolm was a little bit spooked about anything domestic and being tied down, but this was taking it over the top. If he was that skittish about the whole thing, it might be time to rethink what she was doing with him.

xx

For once, Trip was the first to awaken, unwrapping himself from T'Pol's arms and legs, his mind already thinking food, soon propelled to hunt for a gargantuan breakfast. He softly got up and left the room, chuckling inwardly at the prone form of his wife. He could count the days when he was up before her and she usually snapped awake at the first rustling of fabric, no matter how careful he was. He finished pulling his T-shirt on outside their door, inordinately happy she still hadn't heard him.

The dead l'lieoihs were carpeting the corridor, there were more than ever. If he thought the epidemic was almost done with the population, he had another thought coming. Unless it was that housekeeping had been shirking its duties, with the innkeeper hospitalized and what not. He proceeded downstairs cautiously, careful of where he stepped. When he reached the ground floor, he became aware of a commotion at the front of the house.

The innkeeper was dead.

The innkeeper's wife was seated among a circle of employees who were trying to console her. Trip hovered for a few minutes, unsure what to do, then went to seat alone at the small table he and T'Pol had shared the first day, when the innkeeper introduced them to Akjakj. Looking at the employees milling around he realized that some were flushed a deeper gold. The others around them seemed quite oblivious to the change, leading Trip to surmise that perhaps it had something to do with the Human retina. He remembered the innkeeper's golden hue the last time he saw him and it dawned on him that these may very well be the next victims.

He ate perfunctorily, rushing back upstairs as soon as he was done. T'Pol was just waking up when he walked in. In a couple of words he shared the sad news about the innkeeper then wordlessly walked to the wallpadd and turned it on while she stepped into the shower.

The news was grimmer than the night before. The scientists studying the disease had confirmed the virus that was killing the l'lieoihs had breached the immunological barrier and jumped to the Iustreans. And because of the prevalence of l'lieoihs across all city centers, it had jumped in over two hundred locations at the same time. That was before Enterprise even got to the planet. The two hundred or so initial cases had been dismissed as a statistical bump. The next thousand had triggered the warning system but by the time the authorities took note, the virus had spread like wildfire into tens of thousands of new cases. It was too late to think about isolation wards and in any case hospitals were overwhelmed.

TPol had joined him when the speaker commented how considerations of not alarming the public were swept along with the dead hummingbirds and the government officials had quarantined Ahrijht. The camera was showing the streets of one of the city centers, clusters of Iustreans stopped in their daily activities to watch as tall newscreens reported the tally of the dead in a specially lit box at the lower right-hand corner, the numbers flipping every few seconds. The first two hundred cases had already ended fatally. The next thousand seemed to be headed towards the same resolution, the innkeeper had just gotten there earlier than his cohort. As predicted by the epidemiologists, thousands would die by the evening, tens of thousands by the next morning. The anxiety among the public was reaching panic level. As T'Pol and Trip watched, a passing Iustrean started coughing and swaying, obviously sick. The crowd turned on him as one and the Enterprise officers watched in stupefaction mixed with horror as the tall Iustreans dismembered the sick one.

Trip's communicator beeped and he flung it open, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Trip here."

"This is Archer. Have you been watching the news?"

"Yes, we have. Fairly shocking stuff."

"We don't know how the Iustreans are going to react to aliens, with everything that's happening. Whatever you were planning to do today, do not leave your hotel room. That's an order. I've already contacted Adigo, he's spreading the word to everyone else."

Trip looked at T'Pol meaningfully. "I don't think that's going to be an issue after what we've seen."

But Archer was going on with his thoughts " I have forty-seven crewmen on the planet, not counting the science teams and we have no idea how the virus could affect Humans. I'd rather nobody ran the risk of getting exposed." There was a pause. "Or how it's going to affect you T'Pol, sorry, didn't mean to forget you."

"No offense can be taken where no offense is intended" came the reply. Trip winced. Jonathan would always have a tin ear where Vulcans were concerned or he would know the pat answer was a sign she was not pleased.

"We're not going anywhere" Trip repeated, hurrying to cover the awkwardness Archer didn't feel.

"By the way, how are you two doing? The virus doesn't seem to have impacted me. Yet." Archer added wryly. "You two okay?"

"I'm fine, Jon."

"I am not showing any symptoms."

"Good. I'll try raising Enterprise at 1200. Let's talk then. Let me know if you hear anything beforehand. Archer out."

Trip shut off his communicator, looking at T'Pol. She was already laying pillows in a corner of the room "I have to meditate." Trip nodded, eyeing the bed and thinking a restorative nap was in order. After the morning activities it would be a while before his sexual drive raised up its head again.

xx

Hoshi was getting antsy. They should have been back at Lupsypso about now and instead she was stuck somewhere in space going at impulse speed and hoping she might, might, get warp speed tomorrow. She looked over at Reed's station but he hadn't shown up since breakfast, sending word that he was busy reviewing Federation files. In a few hours Captain Archer would come out from under M-2552 and the first thing he would do was contact his ship. And nobody would be there to talk to him. The thought alone made her sick to her stomach. If she could only reach out and explain.

She was tempted to call Hess and ask her how things were progressing but she was about certain that would result in a volley of words and adjectives that would leave her no choice but to report Hannah for insubordination and she was not about to screw up someone's career because they cared about the ship and could curse a blue streak. Especially when that someone held her engines in her hand. Where was Trip when you needed him? He was the perfect ambassador for the engineering crew, suavely letting command know what could be done and when and where to shove it without ever seeming to.

The one thing she knew better than anyone else was communication. Hoshi suddenly got up and walked to her station. There was no rule saying the captain had to keep her butt stuck to that stupid command chair. She was a communications expert and she needed to find a way talk to people who wouldn't be in reach for another full day. If there was somewhere she could be useful, that was it. Travis turned to look at her in surprise. That gave her an idea.

"Can you find out the locations of all the Federation buoys in this quadrant and the next closest one?"

The helmsman smiled at her, glad to have something to do other than guide a starship at snail pace. "I don't know how many we'll find, this is not a high-traffic area, but I'll give you everything I can find."

"Thanks" Hoshi was already focused back on her station. She had read something in one of her technical journals about a way to boost range through a domino effect. It may not be perfectly applicable but it might trigger some other thought. Now if she could remember what she was doing at the time, she might be able to narrow when. Otherwise, it was going to be a long search.


	10. Contagion 10 Nobody's Talking

"Tie them to the chairs, sir?" the MACO asked Reed.

"Yes, to the chairs. Just make sure they're so tightly bound they can't wiggle an eyebrow." The MACO hid his surprise at the unorthodox request and directed his men to do as ordered. Federation Executive Wygdeld and Freeholder Yonde looked apoplectic as they were trussed up and secured to the chairs. The MACOs left the room and Wygdeld let loose.

"What kind of a joke is that? Are you out of your mind, Lieutenant? What's wrong with you?!"

"Yeah, what's wrong with you" echoed Yonde.

Reed smirked. "So the Freeholder can speak, can he? I was starting to have my doubts."

"Do you think somehow this is funny, Lieutenant? If you need to learn what humor is, I'll be happy to teach you, once the Federation brass is done with you."

Reed leaned back in his chair. "The Federation, the Federation, that's all it's about with you, isn't it? So let me ask you a simple question, who gave you the access code to the Federation comm interface?"

Wygdeld grew contemptuous. "I _work_ for the Federation, you imbecile. We get the key codes when we start in our functions."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, I wouldn't call one of your colleagues 'imbecile'. It is rude and he might get upset."

"One of my colleagues?" Wygdeld was non-plussed.

Malcolm had him where he wanted. "Section 31 agents owe each other a duty of courtesy."

Some color drained from the men's faces. Wygdeld's made as if to jump at Reed's throat and realized why he had been carefully tied to his chair. Reed was smiling at him sardonically. "You don't think I'd let myself be alone with two Section 31 agents without taking a minimum of precautions?" He didn't feel it was necessary to let them know about the sensors laid into the chair, or the camera that was unobtrusively recording their facial features, especially the size of their retina. Having them tied up made it a lot easier for the camera.

"What is the meaning of this? What is that Section 31 you're talking about?!"

Reed had to grant it to Wygdeld. But then, that was expected of a Section agent. He pushed back in his chair, still smiling. "Ah, yes, of course you have no idea what that is. I'd explain it to you myself but my memory is not the greatest. Perhaps we should call Harris, what do you think?" He could swear he saw Wygdeld's retina shrink at the name. Malcolm smiled inwardly. He would review the biometrics later but he knew enough now.

"I don't know any Harris."

"Of course you don't, of course you don't." Malcolm placated him. He pushed off his chair, got up, pacing the room in front of the two men. "You see," he turned to the men "here's how I think it went down. You were in Nausicaan space and you found yourselves needing to get out of Dodge City _real_ fast. You called Harris asking what to do and he directed you to procure the nearest starship available, which very unfortunately was Enterprise."

Actually, Malcolm suspected Harris had purposefully selected Enterprise, as a passing shot to him. He wouldn't put it past Harris. Just as he suspected Wygdeld had not been reviewing the text of Reg. M-2552-02 on his computer screen, as he had led Hoshi to believe, but that it was actually Harris on the screen whispering to Wygdeld what to say. That made him angry. Harris should know better than to make him angry.

He continued. "You were not on Braputer when you hacked into the Federation comm interface, but Braputer was the closest planet to you that was also outside of Nausicaan space and you high-tailed it there hoping to arrive right before Enterprise. Except that the Nausicaans almost interrupted you on the way there. Actually, if we hadn't shown up you'd be space dust by now." He paused, looked at the men "Now, what I'd like to know is, what were you doing in Nausicaan space?"

As expected, silence was Malcolm's only answer. He smiled, perching himself on the table. "You don't want to talk, but that's okay. I can figure all kinds of things out based on the information at hand. Some of what I come up with might be more realistic, some more harebrained. And we won't even have to huddle with Harris about it because I'll present it directly to the Federation."

"I told you he was Section 31." He may not speak much, but Yonde obviously knew when to speak. A change went over Wygdeld, as if he were shedding a second skin. He seemed to actually deflate. He looked up at Malcolm. "How did you find out about us?"

Malcolm laughed. "That took me a while. Your biographies were very well done, two stalwart members of the Federation, established officials and all. Harris is really good. But you see" he leaned conspirationally towards the men "what was missing was your past as children. As far back as I could look, you guys never grew up anywhere, just popped on the scene as adults. That's how I knew."

He became sober again. "Now let's talk about what you were doing in Nausicaan space."

xx

Trip sighed, looked at T'Pol in frustration but she just stared blankly back at him. No doubt she didn't have any issue with the number of times Jonathan had called them. He flipped open the communicator, taking on a cheerful tone. "Housekeeping!"

"Very funny, Trip. I take it there's nothing new on your side?"

"No, Captain, nothing. T'Pol hasn't heard from Adigo since she talked to him about an hour ago and he knows to call her as soon as he makes contact with Enterprise. We still can't reach the ship. Otherwise, we get the same news you're getting. The quarantine is still in effect and we can't get back to the spaceport. Hold on, T'Pol has something." T'Pol was watching as many news channels as could fit in a mosaic of tiles on the wallpadd and she had raised a hand to interrupt him.

She looked at Trip "They have identified the virus." She brought the sound up so that both Trip and Archer could hear, then stepped away to where the noise would be bearable.

A couple of Iustreans were talking on the screen, the legend giving a name that was not Ahrijht. One of them turned to the camera. Trip had never seen her before. It dawned on him that the newscaster he was used to seeing had probably become sick, too. This time the universal translator was using a male voice. Trip could tell that T'Pol was non-plussed, turning the device over in her hands for a possible explanation. He already knew what Hoshi would be working on next.

His attention was brought back to the screen as a metallic voice screeched "Breaking announcement", making T'Pol wince. The newswoman was going on "We are reporting from Iyathelm, safely away from the quarantine zone. We have breaking news from the laboratory in OanAn , they have identified the disease. Now turning to the head of the laboratory for further information."

What followed were several minutes of how an alien ship was suspected to have brought the disease to the planet, the rogue exchange of genetic material that shouldn't have taken place but did, as these things were wont to happen, when most likely a l'lieooih fed off a flower that had just been handled by an alien in the early stages of the disease, the l'lieoih without defenses against the alien pathogens, the millions of L'lieoihs and their short life-cycle creating the ideal petri dish for the mutation of the virus into a plague specially calibrated for Iustrean biology. Or against Iustrean biology.

A single underlying message weaved its way through every interview, every explanation, every forecast, every utterance. The aliens had brought the plague to Luspypso.

Its corollary was right behind it, like the second beat of a heart, the unsaid words that might as well have been shouted from the rooftops. The aliens had to leave Luspypso.

It was everyone's guess as to how that would take place. Now that it was a known fact that the virus was the mutation of an alien virus, the quarantine had been extended to the entire planet of Luspypso. No alien ships were allowed to approach. The government now needed to figure out what to do about the aliens that were already there, especially those at the epicenter of the disease. It was obvious from the tone of the newscaster and the people she interviewed that the stock of aliens was currently quite low on Luspypso. Going out into the streets of Ahrijht would be suicidal.

Eventually the newsreel turned to local concerns and T'Pol brought the sound back down to a level she only could hear. Jonathan was silent. Trip was deep in thought. T'Pol had her hands clasped behind her back, seemingly quite relaxed, though Trip knew better.

"That's it then. I guess we have to wait and see how this is all going to play out." Archer finally said. Not that they had much choice in the matter. The one thing that leaned in their favor was that the government would not want to cut itself off from the trade lanes by allowing a mass pogrom against the aliens in its mist. It was certain, however, that everyday Iustreans were of another opinion entirely.

"T'Pol" Archer continued "I need you to research anything you can on the RiShurLiPa virus – If I got the Luspypso transliteration of it right. What its real name is, where it came from, the symptoms, prognosis, everything. I know it's mutated and we don't know what the mutation is like, but at least it gives us a start. Trip, contact Adigo and start working on a roster, figure out where the crewmembers on shore leave are. I want a list for each city center. If somehow the quarantine is lifted, we have to be ready to act. I'll reach out to everyone individually later tonight. In the meantime the order stands, nobody is allowed to leave their current lodging."

"Got it" Trip replied. As usual, T'Pol didn't see the logic in acknowledging an order she didn't have a choice but to execute.

"T'Pol, how long d'you think it'll take you to find out more about the virus?"

"Considering I do not have access to the databases on Enterprise or to a scientific library and my only source of information will be what I am able to reverse access through the tricorder, I estimate it will take three or four hours for a rudimentary baseline." Her tone left no doubt as to how insufficient she considered that information would be.

"I'll take one of your rudimentary baselines any day. We'll talk again at 1950. Archer out."

xx

"Any progress?" Malcolm knew Hoshi had spent the better part of the afternoon in the ready room, deep in technical journals, trying to find a way to contact Archer real-time even if all he had was a communicator. Regular subspace channels were somewhat meaningless seeing that Enterprise'd be back at Luspypso before the message got to him.

Hoshi sighed, wiping off her face the hair that had escaped from her bun. "Not much. Just my luck that this area of space has almost nothing in terms of communication buoys."

"What about the Federation comm interface?" After all if the Section 31 boys had used it to contact Enterprise, who said they couldn't use it again, this time for good reason. Wygdeld and Yonde would still have the codes.

Hoshi looked at him as if he were bearing miraculous news. "Do you know where they were when they hailed us? I mean it. I'd like to know how far away they were from the nearest relay. Perhaps we can replicate what they did."

Malcolm nodded, glad she was taking his suggestion seriously. He had told her the Federation envoys were not who they claimed but had been discreet about their being Section 31 agents. Some things were just not meant to be discussed. All she knew was that they were some kind of agents and that they were on their side and that Reed would keep them in the brig until he was certain they no longer presented a danger to Enterprise.

He hadn't been able to tell her much more than that, Wygdeld and Yonde had been very reluctant to explain what they were doing in Nausicaan space. While she was looking at ways to boost the reach of their communication system, he was reviewing the tapes of their run-in with the Nausicaan ships, fact-checking every last detail, confident something else would come up eventually and tap his mind. Finding out exactly where they had been would be another useful piece of data.

The desk intercom beeped and Hoshi mechanically tapped it "Yes?"

"Hey Hoshi, this is Hannah. Got some juice back in the babies. Another fourteen hours and you can blast."

"Thank you, Hannah, we'll be ready." Hoshi shut off the intercom, frowning at Malcolm's 'you-got-to-be-kidding-me' expression. If Hannah was giving her her engines back, she wasn't going to be picky about the way she said so. The good news was they would be back at Luspypso in slightly over a day.

xx

T'Pol looked at the information showing on her tricorder than quickly stole a glance at Trip. His back was turned to her, he was busy following the latest news on the wallpadd, a single channel at a time.

She went back to the tricorder, suppressing another shiver. The information was not surprising. Actually she should have expected it. Her attention had been so focused on monitoring Trip's vital signs that she had neglected to synthesize other pertinent data.

She made a mental memory-image of the screen and clicked away from it, bringing back the screen from a couple of search algorithms ago. She already knew the gist of what it said, that the infectious organism couldn't survive in iron-based blood and that Humans could neither catch the disease nor be its vectors. There were still reams of data to be reviewed and dissected before Captain Archer called again. She started reading.

"M'calling down for dinner, what would'ya like?" Trips voice suddenly cut through her concentration. They'd already had to use room service. The innkeeper's wife had been effusively apologetic, knowing they couldn't leave the hotel because of the general anxiety-fed hostility, quite sorry for their plight, for her plight, worried that her hotel, well-known to host aliens, could become the target of popular ire. Still she had reassured them that they were safe in her establishment, safe with her, and that they had nothing to worry about.

That was before the news that the virus was alien in origin. She didn't answer Trip's call this time and he looked uncertainly over at T'Pol, wondering if perhaps they now had a reason to worry. "I'll try again in a few."

T'Pol mutely nodded and went back to her task, the thought of having to interrupt her reading for a meal vaguely irritating her. The irritation at having to accomplish a necessary vital function was not logical and she wondered why it would be so close to the surface.

Trip lasted ten minutes thirty-six seconds before he called the front office again, which if he had asked she would have told him was woefully insufficient for anyone to complete a task and come back to their post. But somehow he did make contact, a sign that perhaps her estimation was wrong or the innkeeper's wife had already been well advanced on whatever had pulled her from her desk. Even though she was fully absorbed in the material she was reading, another part of her brain noticed the absence of the customary verbal exchange that accompanied an order of food for in-room consumption. She stopped and looked up at Trip, noting his skin tone was paler than usual. His eyes were wide. "The innkeeper's wife is sick." He sat on the bed, passing a hand in his hair.

She knew that beyond the immediate question of nourishment there was also the question of their safety now that their main source of protection was gone. Sensing her questions through the bond, Trip turned to her. "They told me the kitchen would call us back. Hopefully they will, but there's no saying. We're not the only aliens in the hotel but we have to be careful."

T'Pol unfolded herself from where she had been reading. "We have water, food is not as much of an issue."

Trip snickered. "Worse comes to worse, we can eat the hummingbirds. Sorry, I know it's meat..." Another thought struck him "Well, hopefully we won't catch the virus if we eat them."

T'Pol felt the urge to adopt the Human gesture of shaking her head in disbelief at how quickly her mate could fleet from one thought to another. "Based on the reading I've been able to accomplish, the R'Shur L'Lipa virus cannot survive in an iron-based environment. It is doubtful the virus will have mutated that drastically." She realized he would have to deduct what she meant, explained further "You won't catch the virus."

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "What about you?"

"I won't be eating the l'lieoihs." It was her turn to change the subject "We should establish a safety protocol."

Trip nodded. "Yes, for starters we're obviously not opening the door to anyone that knocks." His eyes were darting around the room, taking a quick inventory of what could be used as weapon, what could constitute an escape route. At least they had the advantage of a military background. They knew what to do. Now it was merely a question of figuring out the tools they would use.

They were in the midst of preparations when Archer called, right on time. "Any news?"

Trip quickly caught him up on his conversation with Adigo and where the rest of the crew was holed up. He also went over how the innkeeper's wife was sick and they were now at the mercy of the inn's personnel, which could turn against them at any moment. They had been served dinner, against all expectations, and would keep as much of it in reserve as they could. Trip was worried that the night would serve to solidify the personnel's hostility against them. Archer didn't have that issue, yet, being in a bigger hotel with more depth of service. He needed to check on the others.

"I'm calling everyone on Adigo's list that's not at the spaceport, find out what kind of lodging they're in and if they're safe for the time being. We'll reconvene in two hours." Just before he hung up, Archer suddenly remembered he had another question.

"T'Pol, what about the disease?"

T'Pol accepted the communicator from Trip. "It looks like the R'Shur L'lipa disease is the Luspypso name for a Nausicaan virus, R'shurr Leipa, but it is an alien disease even for Nausicaans. The origin of the virus is unknown and little is known about it, other than that it is extremely aggressive and death rates are extremely high, though they vary by species. Fortunately, Humans are completely immune to the virus. It cannot survive or replicate in an iron-based environment, so Iustreans are essentially safe around Humans. Hopefully the Iustreans will become aware of that fact within a reasonable amount of time."

Archer was nodding in the communicator though they couldn't see him. "Is there a vaccine, anything they can do?"

"I am not able to find further information on the virus from here, Captain. I would need Dr. Phlox's medical database. And Dr. Phlox."

For Archer this whole shore leave had been nothing but an exercise in frustration. There he was, stuck in a hotel room in one city center. His senior officers were stuck in a hotel room in another city center and things were starting to turn south for them. He had crewmembers stranded in pretty much every goddamn city center in Ahrijht. In the middle of a pandemic. With a population that was turning against aliens. And Enterprise was nowhere to be found. The only positive news so far was that nobody could become sick or carry the virus off with them.

That prompted another thought. "And you, T'Pol, what about the virus?" The question was perfunctory. Everyone knew Vulcans were impervious to everything.

"I am not showing any symptoms." Archer was not the type of person who'd wonder whether the pat answer was perfunctory as well.


	11. Contagion 11 Containment camp

Hoshi was certain she must be the only person still up on the ship. Not that she wasn't exhausted and would like nothing better than to conk out on the floor of the ready room. But Hannah had promised her warp in another eight hours and while that was immeasurably better than the initial estimate, that was still another eight hours with Archer not knowing where his ship or crew was. On top of the twenty or so hours he had already spent in the dark. If she could just find a way to boost their range and get to his communicator…

The beep of the door almost made her fall off her chair, and she realized she must have fallen asleep while she was thinking.

"Enter."

She smiled when she saw Malcolm. Smiled even more than she noticed he was bearing two cups of steaming tea. Not being the only one burning the midnight oil made for a strange kind of comfort, but she'd take it.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked. She knew he was still trying to figure out what the two agents had been doing in Nausicaan space. They were not talking but Malcolm was going to find out one way or the other. He would ferret it out even if it killed him.

"I have an idea, but trying to build a rationale. Do you know anything about the Nausicaans?"

Hoshi gave a short guttural chuckle. "No, my knowledge is only language-deep. Why do you ask?" Sometimes her best role was to ask questions, make him see things from a different angle that the one he had been pursuing. He could get stubbornly stuck on his point of view, not realizing there were many other realities, each as valid as the one he was aiming for. She had come to think it was a typical male trait.

"I don't know much about them but I thought they were mostly into piracy. I don't know why pirates would chase two men in a shuttle." Reed's mind was going over the Nausicaan he had encountered, it was always about gain.

"And…?"

"The ships we encountered that were so intent on getting rid of our friends" he lingered on the word 'friends', part of him thinking they perhaps should have left well-enough alone and rid themselves, rid him, of a headache, "it's surprising, what did they have to gain."

"Perhaps they were not pirates. Perhaps they were policemen." Hoshi was busy blowing the steam off her cup. She looked up to see Malcolm staring at her with saucer-wide eyes. "What?" she said, wondering if this was déjà vu all over again. Malcom turned on his heels and exited the ready room without another word.

Hoshi sighed. What had she said this time that set his wheels turning. She really wished he would be a little more considerate when that happened.

She turned back to her journals, somewhat energized by the interaction. If she could solve Reed's problems, well, then perhaps she could come with a brilliant answer to her own. She went back over things from the top.

Now what was she trying to do. She was trying to expand the range of their communication server and boost its power so that she could actually make contact with Archer through its itsy bitsy tiny communicator. The journals went at length about how one could piggy-back off an existing comm buoy and build a domino relay from one buoy to the next until the signal bounced to within the sought range. Not a great signal, slow and static-prone, but a handshake of sorts. Great, except she didn't have comm buoys available. There was the one not far from them, and then after that the next one was light years away. The Federation comm interface was a good idea that had swiftly fizzled out. The codes that Wygdeld gave them were for one-time only access.

Hoshi pushed back from her chair in frustration. She started visualizing the network of buoys she didn't have. All she needed was two in the middle and they'd be done.

She would never know how she come by the idea that propelled her out of her chair and made her literally run all the way to Travis' quarters. Poor Travis. Well, not quite, he was part of the crew and she needed him. His captain needed him.

Travis was still blinking the sleep off his eyes when she left his quarters. He would meet her in the ready room in fifteen minutes. First she had to wake Hannah up and grovel for daring ask her something else on top of the engines. But Travis had seen eye-to-eye on her. If they needed buoys where there were not, they would simply install simplified relays of their own. Travis would be piloting the shuttle, more maneuverable than the ship, that would allow them to position exactly the hastily assembled comm buoys, their only purpose being to amplify and direct the sound signal generated by the antenna array that he would be attaching to the first buoy.

Better than twirling their thumbs for eight hours.

xx

The incessant beeping of his communicator finally broke through the fogs of sleep clogging Archer's brain. He groped around for the communicator that he had set next to him on the bed, unable to locate it in the dark. Finally his fingers encountered a boxy and hard substance and he grabbed the device.

"Archer here." His voice was muffled by the pillow. Part of him wondered what could have happened for Trip to reach out so early. Unless it was one of his crewmembers. Jolted by a rush of adrenaline at the images swirling through his mind of his crew beaten and bloodied, Archer focused on the voice talking through the communicator, trying to place it amidst the heavy static garbling half the words.

"…ptain…[skrrg]…shi …[skrrg]…oo…[skrrg]…id"

"Hello?" The static was thick enough to cut through with a knife. Archer focused his entire body on the sound, imagining the communicator on the other side trampled on the street by a vengeful crowd. Whoever was on the other side was talking very slowly, enunciating each word, some phonemes coming across more clearly than others. It was a woman.

"…Catain…[skrrg]…iss …[skrrg]…iss…[skrrg]…sshi …[skrrg]…doo…[skrrg]…oo …[skrrg]…read"

"Hoshi?" Archer blinked, afraid his confused mind was misunderstanding who was talking.

"…[skrrg]…ess!"

"Hoshi, is that you?!"

"…[skrrg]…ess!"

"I don't know if you can hear me, but the reception here is very bad. Any way you can boost the power?" On Enterprise, Hoshi looked in frustration over at Travis. Archer's voice was coming in and out but they were able to understand most of what he was saying. She leaned closer into the headphones.

"…[skrrg]…no. …[skrrg]…It …[skrrg]…ill…[skrrg]…get bett …[skrrg]… Weer… [skrrg]…way"

"You're on your way to Luspypso?" It was somewhat of a wild guess.

"…[skrrg]…ess!"

"Can you hear me?"

"…[skrrg]…ess!"

"Is Enterprise all right?"

"…[skrrg]…ess!"

"Okay, it's easier if I tell you what's going on. You won't be able to come to Luspypso, there's a quarantine around the planet. Hundreds of thousands of people are dying. It's a virus called… let me see RushLipar or something. We're immune but these people need an antidote. Can you ask Phlox to look into it?"

Archer stopped, thinking of something else. "When will you be here?" He quickly checked himself. There was no way he would understand the answer. "Forget that. Call me again in an hour. Perhaps I can hear better. Remember, tell Phlox we need an antidote. Got that?"

"…[skrrg]…ess!"

Archer flipped the communicator shut, thinking that perhaps he should have thrown a 'no' question here and there and make sure Hoshi was hearing what he was saying. He flipped the communicator open again. Trip and T'Pol didn't have anything better to do, stuck in a hotel room. They wouldn't mind the interruption.

xx

"Are you sure he said RushLipar?" Phlox asked Hoshi again. She nodded. "Yes, Travis was with me and I made a tape of the call. Not that you can hear much of it other than the static."

Phlox considered, looking at his medical database. Archer was not the most knowledgeable when it came to scientific terms, he had seen him struggle to remember a fairly easy medical term.[1] There was no such thing as a RushLipar virus, but he had found the R'shurr Leipa disease in the database, and the coincidence was too strong. He would just bet that's what Archer had meant to say. And that was the Nausicaan name for the disease, they were close to the Nausicaan space sector.

"And he said they were immune?"

"Yes, he said 'we're' immune."

That nailed it for Phlox. R'shurr Leipa couldn't survive in iron-based blood. "I'll let you know what I find, but it's going to take longer than an hour. I'm not familiar with the virus, I will have to call on the Interspecies Medical Exchange databases, I may have to ask for an expert opinion."

"Do whatever you need to, Doctor. The connection was so bad, I really have no idea what's going on down on the planet surface. Hopefully we can hear more next time."

xx

"I have a feeling they're not going to bring food today." T'Pol felt a rush of irritation at the mention of food. It was illogical but so was Trip's fixation on it.

"So eat some l'lieoihs!" she snapped, realizing as soon as she said it that she was snapping.

He turned to her in surprise. "Hey, are you alright?"

She avoided his gaze, looking away and down. "I beg forgiveness. There is no offense in your seeking to satisfy your nutritional needs."

Trip closed the gap between the two of them, careful not to touch her. If she was having trouble controlling her emotions, the worst thing he could do was overload her synapses by adding his feelings on top of hers. "Hey, it's okay." He said. He was so close that he could feel the warmth of her skin even through the thermal suit. "Being prisoners in our hotel room in the middle of a pandemic with what's going on outside is not what I had in mind either."

He wasn't getting anything through the bond, whatever was bothering her was being kept real close to the vest. He saw T'Pol close her eyes. When she opened them they were clear and it even felt like the warmth emanating from her skin had cooled somewhat. "I will be fine." She said. Then pointing at the wallpadd with her chin "How is the construction proceeding?"

Trip turned to look at the wallpadd while T'Pol stayed rigidly upright behind him. Since early on in the morning, when Jon had awakened them with news that he had made contact with Enterprise, all the news channels had been locked on the red sands outside the Ahrijht city centers, showing in the distance the swift assembly of row upon row upon row of white fabric tents. As the newscasters had explained, these were containment camps, being prepared to house the thousands of aliens present in and around Ahrijht. What they hadn't explained was how the aliens were supposed to go from the city centers to the new city in the sands, but construction was going at a fast clip. Obviously the Iustreans had plenty of experience setting up temporary structures on the surface of the desert.

"How many do you think they're building?" They had only been at it a few hours but already the rows spread out over the horizon in all directions.

T'Pol checked her tricorder. "There are about one hundred and ten thousand aliens in and around Ahrijht on an average daily basis. Most of them have already been exposed to the virus. Assuming the government is preparing for a 90% morbidity rate and high fatalities, correcting for expected deaths and multi-member families, they would need thirty-five thousand units. At the peak." She looked up. "It seems they have assembled over six thousand tents already. They will be done with the construction in approximately nineteen point seven hours."

Trip nodded. Approximately, yes. They were basically prisoners in their hotel room and they were going to be exchanging their comfortable jail for a tent in the desert, the stuff of nightmares as far as he was concerned. He didn't do so well in desert conditions. From what he could see, the tent city coming out of the sands had no facilities, communal or otherwise. It could be because the government figured this was a temporary resettling, or it could be that nobody was going to be alive long enough to need them. Trip found himself hoping the Luspypso government was actually planning to use the camps, that this was not some kind of con game to keep the Iustreans satisfied and the aliens quiet. One way or another it didn't make him feel warm and comfy.

But they had no choice. Several of the crewmen had reported scenes of unbearable violence against aliens. T'Pol had uncovered that certain specific defense pheromones were triggered by the presence of fatally sick individuals, which in large enough quantities, as would happen in a crowd, induced a killing frenzy in otherwise friendly Iustreans. That mechanism underlay the shocking killing they had first seen on the wallpadd. How the behavior had spread to aliens was a point of some contention but it had. The crewmen had seen aliens torn limb by limb by a writhing, seething crowd, who then went back to a placid state as if nothing had happened. None of the news channels had commented or reported on these killings. Archer and Trip could not comprehend the alien-ness of the Iustreans and were unable to decide whether the killings were being hidden to avoid a negative portrayal of the Iustrean culture or to avoid the spread of violence. T'Pol was definite that the government was carefully trying to defuse the anger against aliens and that the containment camps, as horrible as they were, were a logical preventive measure.

Trip was less than sanguine about the containment camps for another reason. By lumping all aliens together, sick or not, the authorities were creating the perfect conditions for contagion. Humans were immune to the disease but T'Pol didn't have the benefit of iron-based blood to protect her and he worried that given enough exposure even Vulcans could fall victim to the virus. They needed to get her off the planet as quickly as possible. As much as he tried to hide his concern, he couldn't prevent his thoughts from skirting back to the issue. "Do you think this thing will spread to the other regions of Luspypso?" So far, there had been no indication of another locus of infection.

"The sands of Ahrijht are extremely high in iron minerals. That could act as a natural filtration mechanism against the virus. Though it would not prevent its spreading through person-to-person contact."

"So we have no idea." Trip concluded.

T'Pol cocked her head to the side. Wasn't that what she had just said?

xx

"When are we arriving at Luspypso?" It was rare to see Dr. Phlox on the bridge, and Hoshi almost did a double-take.

"We are not, Doctor. There is a quarantine ring around Luspypso. We'll be twenty-five thousand miles away, out of transporter range." Hoshi was also not used to seeing the Denobulan doctor without his customary grin. She glanced over at Reed then back at Phlox. "But we can talk to them now."

She had been calling Archer every hour or so and the static had finally lessened enough that they could have a two-way conversation. It didn't look good. The contagion was rampant and the crew was for all instances and purposes prisoner on Luspypso, the Iustreans dangerously aggressive against everything that reminded them of the alien origins of the virus. "We don't know when we'll be able to recover our people. Other ships from other worlds are in the same situation. Everyone's monitoring what's going on."

Phlox was staring fixedly at the screen. "Doctor?" Hoshi asked. He and shook himself as if she had been talking from a long way away. "Yes, yes. Can I see you in your ready room, Captain. I think it's preferable if Lieutenant Reed joins us as well."

xx

"Alright, you two" Reed's eyes were flashing with anger "I'm about done with the guessing game. We have an emergency situation, something much bigger than anything you were concocting in Nausicaan space. And this time you could actually make out like heroes."

Wygdeld got up and approached the glass. Reed was not surprised. He knew he'd be interested. "What's in it for us?"

Reed's mouth curled back over his teeth. Harris must really be scratching the bottom of the barrel to hire agents these days. In Reed's time, such blatant mercantilism would never, ever, have been seen.

Unless these were chumps were of such poor quality as agents that they were completely expandable and that's why Harris had sent them to deal with the Nausicaans. Typical Harris. They had been selected because they were not supposed to make it back. Enterprise was supposed to arrive too late but just in time to make an official record about how Federation Executive Wygdeld and Freeholder Yonde were now, regrettably, space dust, not to actually save them. For the first time, Malcolm was glad they had saved the unsavory characters. Anything that thwarted Harris' plans was a good thing in his book.

"You've already got what's in it for you" he growled back. "You're still alive." He took the meanest expression he was capable of, one he had spent years perfecting in front of his bathroom mirror, when he was a small kid and an easy target for bullies. "For the time being."

Wygdeld couldn't prevent his Adam's apple from marking his sudden swallowing. "You can't kill us. Harris would get your skin." It was obvious most of it was puffery.

"Really?" Malcolm wryly smiled. "You didn't stop and wonder why it was we almost didn't get to you in time?" He could tell Yonde was unsettled and Wygdeld was trying to think real fast. That was good. He needed them to start doubting everything, everything. And at the same time he couldn't afford to have them know how much Enterprise needed their help, the anxiety that was animating everyone on board, the two men their Hail Mary pass to avoid millions of death and perhaps get their crew back.

"You know what, forget about it, I don't think you're up to the task." That was the hardest line Malcolm had had to deliver. Hoshi had made him repeat it again and again until the intonation was right, until he could say it with without feeling they could hear his heart beat in his chest. She was the poker player on board. He turned around to leave.

"Will you let us go if we help you?"

Malcolm's back was turned to the men and they couldn't see him looking upward in a silent prayer of thanks. He would venerate Hoshi later, in the privacy of her bedroom. When he was allowed back in.

He turned back around. "We could consider it."

xx

"I'm sorry." Phlox's tone was grim. T'Pol looked at the bathroom door but Trip was still in the shower.

"You have done nothing that you need to apologize for."

"If I hadn't pulled out M-2552 and you had gone with the science teams, you wouldn't be at ground zero of the infection."

"Doctor, as much as we try to predict the past based on the present, it remains that no one can foresee the future. We do not know that for a fact."

"How are you doing?"

"As I told the Captain and Commander Tucker, I am not showing any symptoms."

Trip came out of the shower, he thought he had heard voices. T'Pol was on her communicator, talking with someone who was not Archer. His heart leapt with joy when he recognized Phlox's voice. Enterprise was back in range. He knew they couldn't make it all the way to the planet, but knowing they were in the area was a boon to the soul.

"Phlox!"

"Commander, glad to hear your voice. Based on the decibel level, I take it you are not sick."

Trip laughed. "Good thing Humans can't catch this thing." He stole a glance at T'Pol, he didn't want to ask Phlox in front of her whether she could. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm her.

"Actually" Phlox's voice was serious "technically, Humans do catch the R'shurr Lleipa virus, but the virus can neither survive or replicate in Human DNA." Phlox was trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. "Tell me, Commander, did you have any symptoms of a possible fever over the past few days? Night sweats, bad dreams, that kind of thing?"

Trip raised his eyebrows at T'Pol. He had completely forgotten about it. "Funny you should say that, doctor, I did have really weird dreams a couple of days ago." He was talking to T'Pol in explanation. "Back at the Ulaih Ruins."

"I see. And when was that?"

Trip thought for a moment. "That's easy, that was the day after we arrived. When I thought I stepped on one of those hummingbirds and killed it. The innkeeper told us they don't land unless they're already dying and T'Pol disposed of the bird. "

There were a couple of heartbeats of silence. T'Pol looked almost bored with the conversation. Phlox sighed. "I see, Commander Tucker. Thank you. We're trying to get a supply of vaccine from Sari'Loman. That's the system on the other side of Nausicaa where we think the disease originated. I'll be back in touch if I have anything new to report."

Phlox hit the off-switch, sighing. T'Pol knew but she didn't want to let them know. Given the current heightened emotions on Luspypso, being sick and being an alien would be a double death sentence. She could jeopardize all of them. He would have to follow her lead until Trip and Archer were back on Enterprise. And then he could tell them. Not something he was looking forward to.


	12. Contagion 12 Left Behind

The loud banging at the door reverberated through the entire room. It echoed again, finally rousing its occupants. T'Pol sat bolt upright in the bed and Trip groggily put one foot on the floor to get up.

The door flew open and three Iustreans barged in, weapons slung over their hazmat suits. Trip was on his feet barring their access before he was even aware he had moved, signaling to T'Pol at the same time with his hand to stay put. A black mass of rage was coming at him through the bond, the kind of rage that would obliterate everything in its path, and Trip's main concern was to hold T'Pol back before she went on the attack and the whole scene devolved into a nightmare. He had already scoped the aliens, seen that the weapons were not drawn. Other than their sudden irruption, possibly from the lack of response to their knocking, they were not aggressive.

He felt T'Pol get off the bed and start moving on them, repositioned himself so that he was in her way, his body a shield between her fury and the unsuspecting men. Through the clear shields of the suits he could see they wore uniforms and were male. "It's okay, it's okay." He half-turned to her while keeping the men in sight. "Why don't you go get dressed?" pleading with her in the bond to just go, sending reassurance that this was all fine. After a few beats, she marched into the bathroom, her arrow-straight back an exclamation point against the men. Trip could finally let go of the breath he had been holding. Of course, the Iustreans didn't know any better than to barge in on a Vulcan in its private chambers. Especially a female Vulcan. They would never know how close they came to a bad outcome.

"What is this about?" he gruffly asked the uniformed men. It dawned on him that they must come from another region of Luspypso, one where the virus had not yet spread.

"We are a protective force. We are taking you to the containment camp. You have ten minutes to pack up and come with us."

"Just us?"

"No, every alien in the hotel. We must leave now."

T'Pol stepped out of the bathroom at that moment, fully dressed and wrapped in Vulcan dignity. She had obviously overheard the men. "You're ok?" asked Trip as he proceeded to go get dressed as well.

"I will attempt to comply" came the haughty reply. At least the bond no longer felt like she was going to break the men like straws.

One thing Starfleet officers could do easily was pack in ten minutes or less. Soon they were at the door of the hotel room, looking the same as on the day they arrived. Trip couldn't feel anything more through the bond, T'Pol's control was iron-clad. Part of him wondered why she had to maintain such a tight handle on things, it wasn't like he had never felt her anger through the bond. Especially as she had been unusually irritable lately.

"The stairs." the leader of the men curtly indicated.

"Obviously." Came the answer from the Vulcan in the party. It was true that the hazmat-suited Iustreans lining the stairs, hands on their rifles, were somewhat of a dead giveaway. If he had any doubts before, Trip now knew for certain that T'Pol was irritated.

"You need any help?" he asked, knowing he would be shot down with either a glance or an acerbic remark but he'd rather she be irritated with him than her get into a confrontation with the armed guards. For his trouble, he was skewered with an eyebrow, a glance, and an acid "If one needed help, logically, one would ask". One of those times where success on all fronts was not the sweetest victory. Did he mention she had been irritable lately?

A number of aliens were already making their way down the stairs, single-filed, the uniformed Iustreans at each landing preventing any motion other than downward. Once outside, they could see that hundreds of aliens of all species were slowly being gathered under the watchful eyes and rifles of many more tall Iustreans in hazmat suits. There were a few civilians around that early in the morning, not wearing hazmat suits, probably early risers and definitely not enough in number for any kind of hormone-driven crowd frenzy. Trip realized that the hazmat suits must also be filtering the defense pheromones because the virus had to be present and active among so many hundreds of aliens of all possible species.

They were herded through the streets to the bottom of the giant stairways that allowed passage out of the sinkholes. Trip looked up at the stairs stretching all the way to the top. He had only ever taken them the easy way, down, and the way up looked daunting, especially when he had less energy from lack of food, they hadn't eaten since they'd finished the reserves from their dinner early the day before. Since _he_ 'd finished their reserves, T'Pol claiming not to be hungry.

He turned to her. "You'd think they'd have put the elevators back in service for this."

She too was looking up at the climb, considering. "Using the elevators would mean taking the aliens through loci with higher population density. They would have less control on the crowds. And it would take longer." She read the interrogation in his eyes. "The elevators can only hold so many at a time, the rest would be waiting in the streets."

Trip nodded. So many aliens in the street right around the time the city center came to life, hundreds and thousands of Iustreans streaming out of their tall towers to go about their day, everyone anxious about the alien virus, pheromones gone wild, there would never be enough hazmat-suited policemen to protect the aliens from the crowd gone berserk.

He looked up again. There was no other way but to climb the hundreds of stairs. He would do it the way his father would tell him whenever he complained, one step at a time.

xx

Hoshi finally breathed out, paying silent thanks to the deities of the universe. They were back in orbit around Luspypso. There may be a quarantine around Luspypso, and she may be held to twenty-five thousand feet perimeter, unable to transport her crewmen and captain directly on board, but she had brought his ship back to Archer. With a few scorch marks and Trip was going to have a fit about some engine parts but it wasn't like she fell asleep at the wheel, and the ship worked just fine. She didn't expect a medal but at least a note of thanks and recognition would be nice. Because if she hadn't brought the ship back, she would never have heard the end of it.

She motioned the cadet at her station to hail the captain. He turned around with a frown after a couple of minutes. "Excuse me, sir, the captain is not responding."

 _Now what_? She had been talking with Archer for hours now, the connection had become crystal clear and stable, and now he could not be reached? "Try Commander Trip, or T'Pol."

That too was unsuccessful, as was Ensign Adigo and everyone else they tried. Finally Reed looked up from his station "They're jamming the communications."

 _You think?!_ Hoshi may be mad at him but she was not unprofessional. "Travis, can you get a read on what's going on down on the surface?" Archer had mentioned the situation was tense, they were all virtual prisoners in their rooms, something about the Iustreans reacting negatively to the aliens.

"There's a congregation of aliens on the surface next to Ahrijht. There must be hundreds of thousands of them!" The helmsman turned to her in puzzlement.

Now what in the blazes was going on?! All she wanted was to give Archer his ship back and stop being acting captain. Was that too much to ask? She had tried arguing with Malcolm that since Wygdeld and Yonde were not really Federation, the emergency order had been illegal and therefore she was not acting captain and the usual chain of command should reassert itself. But he had refused to have any of it. Legitimate or not, somewhere in the Federation books there was an emergency with her name on it.

"Any sign of aggression? Are the aliens in danger?" Quarantine or not, if her captain and crew were in danger, she was taking the ship through.

"I am not seeing any weapons discharge and everything seems orderly." Travis looked at her with a question mark. "Just a huge gathering."

"Let me know the instant there is a change. Find out what you can about what's going on, monitor public communications, the usual." She turned to her former station. "Cadet, keep trying to raise the Captain." Hoshi made a point of not looking at Malcolm. She was peeved he wouldn't go along with the idea he should be in command.

Her chair intercom beeped. "Any news?" That was Phlox.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, we haven't made contact yet. We'll let you know as soon as we do." Hoshi could feel the tension in Phlox's voice. She was very sorry she had nothing further to tell him.

"Captain, if I may?" Malcolm was standing next to the command chair, rigidly at attention. Every time they had a tiff, he retreated into his unemotional English persona. Well, she could and would match him at his game.

"Lieutenant." She waited then realized she did not want him to say what he had to say on the bridge. He, Phlox and she should be the only ones in the know until they had a resolution.

"In my ready room, Lieutenant." She walked behind him. Angry or not, dispute or not, he still had a very nice ass.

xx

The first sun was rising on the horizon when they got to the top. Trip turned to look at T'Pol, absently noticing she seemed slightly out of breath, some errant hair stuck to her forehead. They must have walked up the stairs faster than he thought. T'Pol suppressed a shiver and Trip looked at the sky. It would be another couple of hours before the second sun rose in turn. She would be warmer then.

He turned to look back at what should have been the sands of Ahrijht. Instead, there was a crushing mass of aliens of all kinds, sizes and genders, more than he had ever seen before, hiding the red sands that he knew were underfoot. The mass was moving forward like an undulating amoeba as more and more aliens joined it, coming up the stairs from the city centers or crossing on foot from one of the other four city centers, even those a few miles away. The gathering must have started at the stroke of midnight over there. Trip would have liked to reach out to Archer but something told him to exercise discretion. He didn't want to see his communicator be confiscated.

Soon they were deep in the body of the crowd, walking forward slowly, their progress stopped every so often by the wall of the bodies ahead of them. They were a good five hundred yards from where they started and it had taken close to an hour.

Trip leaned over to T'Pol, pointing with his chin at the crowd-control barriers that lined each side. "These things must go all the way to the containment camp."

She looked at the hazmat-suited and armed Iustreans posted every few yards on the other side of the barriers, preventing any escape. "It would seem so. Based on Iustrean statistics the total number of aliens in the region should spread over less than a kilometer but there are over three kilometers between the camp and the city center."

Trip tried to estimate how many people were around, it certainly seemed more than the number T'Pol had quoted. There were as many behind them as ahead of them, stretching back all the way to city center 5. He turned to T'Pol but she had anticipated him. "Assuming the one hundred and ten thousand is a daily average of aliens transiting through Ahrijht, it would not include those that are resident on site. There is also the possibility that the official number somewhat underestimates the actual count."

Somewhat underestimates, for sure. Trip nodded, making a mental note to not rely on Iustrean statistics for any reason.

As they kept moving forward, eddies started forming in the crowd, a semblance of order was appearing, helped along by tall Iustreans in colorful hazmat suits that seemed to be directing the flow along the way. Soon, the throngs were moving in different directions according to a time-honored practice and they found themselves in a line that snaked back and forth for hundreds of yards, bordered on each side by Iustreans behind the control barriers. It was obvious there would be no side excursion from that point on.

Trip craned his neck, trying to glance over the crowd, see ahead where it all led or if he could locate other crewmembers. A colorfully hazmat-suited Iustrean appeared right next to him as if by magic, patiently explaining to everyone within earshot that they would be scanned for the virus. Those that were shown to not be infected and not carry the virus would be free to leave the planet, at their cost. The sick ones would be sent to an isolation camp further out in the sands of Ahrijht, far away from the city centers. The containment camp would be were virus carriers resided while waiting for the disease to erupt or subside, and if they didn't catch the disease, they would be free to leave the planet.

Trip was approaching to ask the Iustrean representative how long the line was but the Luspypso native noticed him first.

"You are Human?"

"Yes sir, I am."

"You do not need to wait in line. Humans are not susceptible to R'Shur L'lipa. There is a line over there" he pointed to an area beyond the line of uniformed officers to the left. "Hover-shuttles will bring you to the spaceport."

"My wife is with me."

The Iustrean looked over at T'Pol, nothing in his expression changing. "Only Humans. She can meet you at the spaceport after she's been cleared." And the representative turned around to answer another alien.

"I will be fine. Go ahead." T'Pol urged him to yield to what may have been a piece of advice or a directive, they were not sure. Trip lingered, unwilling to leave her alone, trying to balance the Enterprise's need for its chief engineer against his reluctance at leaving her behind. On the other hand she would not appreciate the baby-sitting. She was a commanding officer on the Enterprise and perfectly able to take care of herself.

The Iustrean representative turned around at that moment, seeming surprised to still find him there. "I told you, Humans must go directly to the spaceport." The tone left no room for discussion. The Iustrean moved on, padd held in three-fingered hand.

Trip turned to T'Pol "I'm not sure how long this line will take."

"Without knowledge of the scanner set-up, it is impossible to estimate but I doubt it would be possible for the Iustreans to maintain crowd control over an extended amount of time. I would expect no longer than twelve hours."

"Darling, Vulcans are patience itself. The aliens here will start a riot of their own after six hours."

She looked around. "I am not sure the armed officers on either side would approve."

"Well, hopefully it won't be twelve hours. I'd like to have you back on Enterprise a lot sooner than that." T'Pol looked sharply at him but did not say anything, just indicated her understanding with a brief nod.

"I'll see you on the ship." Trip held two fingers for her, squeezed her hand for himself. He stepped through the throngs of people and disappeared from sight.

xx

Reed and Harris looked at each other coldly across the vastness of space. The two men had started as mentor and mentee, could easily have become intimate friends, so close were they in their philosophy of life, and had ended up instead sworn adversaries in an endless game of one-upmanship.

"Lieutenant."

Reed sneered inwardly. Always Harris's old trick to remind him that he held a lower rank. As if it made any difference any more. It might have at some point, but that was long ago, before Malcolm built his experience out in space, one unexpected turn at the time. He was at least Harris' equal in his experience of life.

"Harris." Two could play at those little mind games. But this time Reed had the upper-hand, he could afford to go first. "Interesting things happening in Nausicaan space. Have you heard?"

Harris just looked at him coldly. Reed knew that Harris' next move would be to try and ferret out how much he knew. While he professed to disdain Harris and everything he stood for, the reality of it was that he enjoyed their mental swordplay, the carefully orchestrated duet of moves and counter-moves they engaged in whenever they had to deal with each other.

"Nausicaan space? You don't say?" Harris was going to play it close to the vest.

That would usually be fine but Reed didn't have that kind of time. "I'd love to play our usual guessing game but I really don't have time, so let me make this easy for you. I know what your patsies were doing in Nausicaan space."

Harris just stared. Reed could tell Harris was not pleased, which satisfied him immensely.

"So help me understand again, how was this supposed to work?" Reed needled him. "Did you really think your men could just go into Nausicaan space with a cargoload of weapons, drop it off with some rebel group trying to prevent a stable government from forming, and come back unscathed to Federation space? Who selected these idiots anyway?"

What Reed was thinking was 'And how were they going to get the serum now?' If Enterprise had gotten into a tussle with some Nausicaan police force they certainly were not going to let them come in, sorry just passing by, on their way to pick up the serum.

Harris's reaction was unexpected. He laughed, shaking his head. "So you think that's what it was, supporting a rebel group?"

Reed narrowed his eyes. The man was as close to a nut job as they came, constantly plotting and twisting the truth. "That's what your patsies thought it was," he hedged, unsure how to play his hand, thinking furiously.

Why would Harris send arms to the rebels knowing they would be intercepted? Unless... Unless that was the whole point. "The container was empty." The thought came to him like an epiphany. He thought back to the conversation with Wygdeld, about the ships showing out of nowhere and interrupting the drop, blowing up the cargo container _._

On the screen, Harris chuckled. "You've always be really good, Lieutenant, you're sure you don't want your old job back?"

So there had never been any arms and the cargo was a make-believe drop. Probably to make-believe rebels. Which is what a government would do in order to gain legitimacy. That changed everything. Nausicaan governments were incredibly unstable. But then why did the police attack? Try to make the men disappear? So there would be no witnesses?

No, it was because they were not real agents, not savvy enough, no paranoid enough. He had to keep reminding himself of that. They were just gun-for-hires given a one-way mission with a fat paycheck and never realizing it was too good to be true. Trust Harris to put together something like that.

Reed shook his head "Wygdeld and Yonde... what names. Did you have an imagination break-down? Anyway, I know the Nausicaan government owes you a debt of gratitude. And you're going to collect on it."

On the screen, Harris looked disbelievingly at Reed. Reed went on "It's not a question, by the way. You are going to collect on it. Or I'm going to let the Federation know how Section 31 has been supplying arms to the rebels against the current government. Kind of fun since it's the opposite of your game plan. Playing god with a whole sector of space, not knowing how this is going to turn out in the long run. I'm sure there are plenty of other worlds who are going to be thrilled hearing about this."

Reed stopped Harris with the flick of a wrist before he could explain. "I am sure there are lots of great reasons for it and this is in the best interest of the Federation and everyone around, yada, yada, yada, and to be perfectly honest, I don't care. What I care about is this. We're in orbit around Luspypso, and they're having some major deadly plague. There is a world on the other side of Nausicaa, the Sari'Loman. They have the serum these guys need, but we can't spare the time. So you are going to reach out to your Nausicaan buddies and have them arrange to get the serum and bring it to us. We'll make life easier for them by meeting them in their space. Or millions of people will die that shouldn't have died. So for once you'll be playing the right kind of god."

Reed eyed Harris, trying to gauge the impact of his words. This would be such a small payment for Harris to prevent a huge scandal from blowing up for Section 31.

Fortunately, Harris was really good at figuring where his best interest lay. He leaned forward towards the vidscreen. "What is it that you need exactly?"

xx

T'Pol had watched Trip leave on his way to the Human line and to the spaceport. When she could no longer see him, she closed her eyes. Ever since the morning, when the irruption from the Iustrean guards had jolted her awake, heart and head pounding in an unpleasant beat, she had known that she wouldn't be able to hide the symptoms of the disease much longer.

Initially she hadn't even realized she was sick, Vulcans' autonomous feedback and control adjusting automatically to the signals that her body was sending her. Focused on Trip's biosigns, she had failed to notice the totality of the symptoms, the feeling colder than usual, the sleeping longer, a vague and constant feeling of nausea.

When she did take note, she had convinced herself it was a minor ailment unrelated to the death of the l'lieoihs. Until she researched the R'Shur L'Lipa virus and finally acknowledged that she was sick with a disease often fatal in Vulcans. She had maintained an iron-clad control on the bond and on the symptoms, worried that her illness might trigger a frenzied strike from the Iustrean staff, not wanting Trip to know or he would have insisted to stay with her even at his personal risk.

But now the fever was creeping higher, taxing her system and making it harder to keep the symptoms in check.

Trip's sudden departure had allowed her to ever so slightly relax her control. In hindsight, that may not have been the best course of action. She almost fell as soon as she did, finding her head was swimming, making it difficult to maintain her balance. Her attempts at re-establishing control were unsuccessful, her mental fingers slipping over the fever controls, the nausea churning higher.

Staying on her feet was the only challenge she chose to concern herself with, unsure what would happen to her if she were to fall, unsure that she could trust the Iustreans. Once she was in the sick camp she would be protected from Iustrean crowds.

She had no idea what would happen there and she knew she would be alone. Humans were immune, the entire crew would be on Enterprise. Trip would be on Enterprise.

 _Kaiidth_. What was, was, she didn't have the strength to ponder the future. The present boiled down to inching along with the crowd. She fixed her gaze on the heels of the boots of the alien in line just ahead of her, moving when the boots moved, stopping when they stopped, oblivious to anything else.


	13. Contagion 13 T'Pol!

Trip sighed as he exited from the hovercraft with what felt like the hundred people or so that had been jammed in there with him, a few of them with an elbow against his ribs. They were all in a hurry to get to the spaceport and away from Ahrijht, most of them Humans and therefore neither sick nor carrying the virus.

He sighed again when he looked up ahead. He should have expected that after the line to get on the line to the hover-crafts and the line to get on the hover-craft, there would be a line to get to the spaceport. At least this time he could see the end of the line from where he was. There were several shorter lines next to him but the Iustreans guiding the crowd, still in hazmat suits, sent him to the longest one along with all the other Humans.

There was a tall gate at the end through which the line snaked, probably one last failsafe test to make sure there were no shapeshifters or non-Human aliens trying to get access to the spaceport. Once he'd pass through the gate he would finally be admitted to the transport area and be able to get back to the ship. Hopefully without yet another line to get through.

He could see a few Starfleet uniforms ahead of him, possibly the science personnel, he was too far away to recognize anyone. Trip thought about pulling rank and getting ahead of the line based on his status as Commander, abandoned that idea when he saw other Humans try the maneuver and be escorted back to the end of the line by a security team.

Looking around while waiting, he saw the shorter lines were each specific to a different alien species. It made sense. The Iustreans would have calibrated scanners for the main alien species to get everyone going quickly and efficiently. The line next to him was all Rigellian. Trip craned his neck to the side, seeing a line for Elysians and one for Denobulans. At least Phlox would be safe from anyone bringing back a deadly virus. Though he didn't think the virus could survive a session in decon. He couldn't find the Vulcan line on that side and went to the other side, leaning as far as he could over the porta-barrier, looking in all directions.

The commotion brought one of the hazmat-suited officials to his side. "Are you looking for something, gentlebeing?"

Trip smiled his most ingratiating smile at the Iustrean. "I'm looking for the line for Vulcans. My wife is Vulcan and she had to wait to be scanned at the containment camp. I just want to see where she'll be when she gets here."

The tall being blinked her white-less eyes, passed her sleeved armed over the side of her helmet, where her right hearing-hole was. "I'm sorry, gentle being. Vulcans are prone to R'Shurr L'lipa disease. Even if your wife is not sick yet, she is carrying the virus. No Vulcans are allowed beyond the containment camp." The guide walked on.

Trip stood transfixed, not moving in spite of the few feet opening that materialized in front of him. The people in line behind him called at him, jostling him from his stupor. But instead of moving forward he turned around and started walking back to the end of the line, excusing himself as he went, side-stepping feet and irate glances from people who didn't understand why he would go the wrong way. He passed by a few Enterprise crewmembers who looked at him in surprise but made a hole as Trip gave no hint he had seen them and no explanation about what was propelling him through the crowd.

xx

Phlox was scowling. "We need to get it here faster."

Reed shook his head "The Nausicaans have to get the serum from Sari'Loman first."

Travis leaned in. "We'll meet the Nausicaan transport at warp five to save time. But there's also the time to come back. There's a point where it no longer makes sense. I ran all the possible routes for efficiency and we'll meet them at the optimal point. The most we can shave is half-a-day, if everything comes together perfectly."

Reed looked in concern at Phlox. "Will that work?"

"You know the situation. In theory it may work, in practice, everybody reacts differently to the virus. Based on what we know of the disease, T'Pol has nine days from start to… finish." Phlox hesitated on the word 'finish'. "We're on day four. You can count as well as I can. In the meantime, every hour we wait we are condemning thousands of Iustreans to death."

Reed nodded, his mouth a thin line.

Phlox seemed to be growing even more anxious now that the timeline was out in the open. "We should be under way already. Why aren't we?" He looked at Hoshi.

"We can't go to warp five with the engineering staff we currently have on board and we have no idea when the others will be back." Hoshi responded. "I talked to Ensign Adigo and it's a zoo on the surface. The only crewmen that are slated to come back are the science teams and that's only because they were already at the spaceport. Everyone else is waiting for their turn. And we still haven't heard from Captain Archer."

Phlox's voice was rising. "We have to do better. There has to be a way."

"Perhaps the science crew can fill in for the engineers?" Reed cautiously proposed.

Hoshi frowned. "I have to ask Hess if that can work. But we still need Captain Archer back on board."

"No we don't."

Hoshi stared at Phlox in disbelief.

"May I remind you, Captain, that we have a medical emergency in Luspypso? One for which I am willing and able to file the appropriate official paperwork, hmm?"

"But –" Hoshi's eyes were wide. Phlox wouldn't, would he?

"All we have to do is pick up some serum. You have already proven you can handle a mission of this type. If the science teams can fill in for the engineers, we'll leave right away. Otherwise, we'll leave as soon as enough engineers are back on board. I am preparing the paperwork."

Silence fell on the command center as Phlox's words slowly descended on Reed and Travis. Hoshi was still trying to process what she heard.

Phlox seemed to realize his tone had been unduly harsh. "Sorry, Hoshi, we have millions of people at risk. We don't have the luxury of waiting until everything is just so."

She nodded, shell-shocked into silence.

xx

"Sorry, gentlebeing, you need to get back in line." Trip looked up at the couple of tall Iustreans in hazmat suits that were blocking his way now that he had reached the end of the line.

"Listen, you don't understand, my wife is at the containment center, I need to go there."

He could not read how the Iustreans were reacting, between the faceplates of the suits and the alien morphology. The tallest of the two talked. "Nobody is allowed back. The hovercrafts bring Humans from the containment center to the spaceport."

"I know that but my wife is at the containment camp. I need to be there with her. I'm not a risk of infection. Because I'm Human. I won't get anyone sick and I won't fall sick. I need to get to her."

"Nobody is allowed back. You need to leave Luspypso."

"But –"

"Get back in line." The Iustrean rudely interrupted, pointing at the line of waiting Humans. His attention was momentarily distracted by the hovercraft that was pulling up at the beginning of the line, now several hundred feet from where it had been. Forgetting about Trip, he started moving towards the hovercraft, intent on making sure the discharge of passengers took place quickly and safely. His partner followed a few steps behind, looking back at Trip as he did so without saying anything.

The onslaught of people coming out of the hovercraft was like a tsunami. Trip was suddenly reminded of the currents of the sea. Noting that the guards were focused on guiding the new arrivals, he started bobbing around the exiting bodies, finding openings, looking for patterns of movement, slowly making his way against the rush. The Iustrean guards were not looking at him. Trip found himself at the door to the hovercraft and lunged as the last Human stepped out, jumping the stairs and diving between two rows of seats. He could have sworn the second guard had turned his head and seen him just as he did so. He flattened himself in the shadows as best as he could and waited. He heard the heavy steps of a hazmat suit coming up the stairs and held his breath then he heard 'all clear' as the heavy steps receded out of the hovercraft. Trip gave silent thanks to the second guard.

The mechanical pilot lit up "Next stop: City Center 5". The hovercraft lifted off the ground. Trip slumped against the side of the vehicle, meaning to stay hidden from sight until it stopped. Chances were the Iustreans hadn't had time to reprogram the communication system and the next stop was the containment camp, right where he had started.

xx

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Turn. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Turn.

Archer had been pacing for hours now, since their aborted removal to the containment center that morning. It had been a shock to find the Iustreans in hazmat suits at his door but they had been very formal and polite. When he had gotten downstairs, the streets were full of aliens, mostly wealthy Elysians, and as explained by his escort, they were all on their way to walk out of the sinkhole and to the containment camp.

That was counting without the virus.

He'd let the Iustreans figure the how and why of it but for some hard-to-fathom reason half the Iustrean population that died overnight had done so outside of their homes, in the street. As a result, the streets were impassable. Beyond the initial feeling of fear and revulsion at so many dead bodies littering the streets it had soon become clear it was physically impossible to walk through, there were too many of them.

The Iustrean guard had caucused with headquarters and brought everyone to a covered stadium-like building in the center of the city, where it would be easier to guard the aliens against any external attack and also easier to round them up again.

The leader of the guards had recognized that Archer was a commanding officer and explained they would go out again at night, under the cover of darkness, once the bodies had been removed. He had also reassured him that their way would not be blocked again. The deaths in the street had been a fluke brought on by the residential pattern of the district they had planned to cross. They would go a different route this time. Archer saw the leader's hazmat sleeve motioning to him from the corner of his eye and interrupted his pacing.

"I wanted to let you know, they've decided to restore the communication network." The Iustreans had pre-emptively jammed the communication network over Ahrijht, worried that a call-to-arms would soon resonate against the aliens if people realized they were congregated in the street. The Iustrean leader explained that now that the aliens were gone from the other city centers they had more forces available to protect those in City Center 1. They thought it was safe to restore the network.

"Thanks. If you don't mind, I'll contact my ship." Archer stepped away, pulling his communicator out.

xx

"Captain!" Hoshi was elated. They had Archer on the line, he was coming back, she could step down as acting captain. Just in the nick of time, she had just heard from Hess about using the science teams. 'I can use them as long as they shut up,' Hannah had said. 'They're kind of useless but at least they understand technical terms. If I layer them with my engineers, they can find their butts with both hands. We have enough staff to give you warp five.'

Soon this would no longer be Hoshi's problem, but Archer's. "We're almost ready to leave, Captain. Lieutenant Reed has arranged for a supply of the Sari'Loman serum, courtesy of the Nausicaans." She may still be angry at him but one had to give recognition where recognition was due. "We'll start as soon as you're on board."

"Ah, Hoshi, I'm still a ways away, in City Center 1. Is everybody else on board?"

"No, Captain, we only have the science teams back and a handful of other crew members. "

"Where's Trip?"

"We haven't heard from him, sir." Hoshi was not going to volunteer that a few crew members had seen him take off from the spaceport line. So long as she was captain, it was her issue to deal with. "But, Captain," gosh, it felt good to say that to someone else, "Dr. Phlox is in the process of declaring a medical emergency. He wants us to leave orbit right away to meet up with the Nausicaans and get the serum." _As in stop him from doing so_. "The science personnel would be filling in for the engineering team. Crewman Hess says that gives her enough hands for warp five." Hoshi was confident that alone would make Archer veto the idea.

There was a silence on the other end. Then simply "Patch me to Phlox." Hoshi flashed a triumphant smile at Malcolm. Archer would never allow the Enterprise to leave without him, he was going to override Phlox.

A few minutes later her chair intercom beeped again. "Hoshi, here."

"Hoshi, this is Captain Archer. There's a couple of changes to the plan." Hoshi's smiled lessened.

"First, Phlox is not going with you. He's been talking to the IME and they've offered their help to the Iustreans. He's going to be picked up by a shuttle very soon to go to a laboratory on Luspypso, the one where they first figured out the virus." Hoshi frowned slightly. There were many questions in her mind, including whether it was safe for Phlox to go down to the planet. But if Archer thought he could do without his Chief Medical Officer, that was perfectly fine by her.

"The second thing is, Phlox signed the emergency order. I insisted he do so. So you're still acting captain. You're ordered to break orbit as soon as Phlox is off the ship. You won't have a CMO on board so be very careful." Hoshi's frown had deepened, revealing the thin vertical line Malcolm liked so.

Archer heard the silence on the other end of the line, tried to soften the blow. "Hoshi, Phlox told me about T'Pol. Millions of others are also depending on us. On you." He wasn't sure that was making it better. "Is Lieutenant Reed here?"

"I'm here Captain." Malcolm had been standing right by at her elbow, unnoticed until then. Hoshi was grateful for the silent presence and support.

"Keep her safe. I'll see you when you're back. Archer out." Malcolm looked over Hoshi, wondering if Archer had meant the Enterprise.

"Captain..." Hoshi didn't want to see him go. She had so many questions to ask him, but he had already signed off. She closed her eyes in frustration. This had so gone like not what she wanted.

xx

Trip jostled with the Humans who were waiting to get on the spaceport hovercraft. He couldn't be too mad about the crowd, it gave him protection to do what he wanted to do, which was get closer to the containment line snaking endlessly across the sands. The guards in their hazmat suits kept their gaze fixed on the crowd, aiming to prevent anyone from jumping the side barriers. He would be going the other way and gambled on the fact they wouldn't have orders against someone trying to get in. In the meantime the heavy hazmat suits made it hard for the guards to catch sigh of him from their side vision.

Trip always felt he was lucky, for only luck could explain the number of times he didn't get into grave trouble. Luck was on his side again. As he neared the line of guards, a Klingon broke through the crowd-control barriers, trying to make an escape which was as useless as it was ill-advised. The Iustran phasers were well-matched to the Klingon and he was soon dragged away. The commotion played in Trip's favor. When the Iustrean that had been momentarily distracted looked back at the line, Trip seemed to be just one alien who had tried to take advantage of the commotion to escape. He brought his hands up in the air to show he intended to comply and quickly went over the crowd control barriers back into the crowd.

Now all he had to do was find T'Pol. Except she was a Vulcan female who stood shoulder high to him and he was staring at a sea of alien heads and shoulders that were taller than her. A needle in a haystack would have been easier to find.

xx

Archer exhaled in frustration. Where was Trip? He had been trying him on and off since he had spoken to Hoshi but the engineer was not responding. Neither was T'Pol. Well, he had stopped trying to raise her since Phlox told him she was sick. Now he was worried that something happened to her on their way to the containment camp.

"Excuse me?"

Archer flipped the communicator shut, looked over at the leader of the guards who had just walked up to him. "We're ready to go?" he asked, hopeful to hear they were finally getting out of the stadium and he would be closer to his ship.

Except that his ship wouldn't be there. He was pondering the contradiction when the leader spoke again. "I understand Humans are immune to R'Shur L'Lipa?"

"We are. I am really sorry for what is happening to your people." Archer privately reflected that was not happening only to their people, but that was beside the point.

The Iustrean nodded briefly inside the hazmat suit. "I have talked to my superiors. I pointed out to them that people who are immune to the disease can focus on what needs to be done instead of having to wear these suits and worry every minute that they will get sick. They told me these are emergency times, to do what I need to." He looked around. "I know these are not the best times with my people but I am told your doctor has come down to the planet to help us?"

Archer nodded. "Yes, Dr. Phlox will be on his way soon, if he's not already there."

"We are in your debt for that."

"Let's all focus on finding a vaccine." Archer smiled politely, wondering if this was just a courtesy chat.

"Would you agree to stay here also and help us? We are going to need people to organize care, get the vaccines to the people, once we have one. I don't know what needs to be done but I do know we will have more needs than resources."

Archer stared in dumbfounded silence at the alien. And then it hit him. This was the perfect answer. He smiled, pulling out his communicator. "I'll be honored to help. Not only that, but I have roughly forty people on the planet with nothing to do and nowhere to go to. Consider all of us to be at your service."

The Iustrean passed his sleeved arm over the side of his helmet, where his right hearing-hole was, seeming irritated at his inability to make contact. He blinked, then bowed to Archer. "Thank you."

xx

Trip was trying to move through the bodies pressed against each other, getting a number of mean-looking aliens really mad at him, excusing himself, bowing, apologizing again, and still he couldn't find T'Pol. He had tried jumping for additional height, but all he could see for what seemed to be miles around where the bobbing of heads and tentacles, crazy hair, some pointed ears that gave him a jolt of crazy hope until he elbowed his way over to where they were and realized these were Vulcan merchants.

"T'Pol!" He tried to scream above the noise of the crowd, getting a number of people to stare in his direction but no T'Pol. His thoughts were going in all different directions. Did something happen to her? Did she try to escape like the Klingon and then they shot her down and dragged her. Where would they have dragged her? His rational mind was trying to sift through them as quickly as they came, telling him she wouldn't have tried to escape, she was a Vulcan, nobody could have captured her, they were all contained in the line and there was no escape anyway.

Trip took a deep breath and forced himself to think. It was obvious the other approach was not working. He had left her roughly 3.5 hours before. Looking up to where they had approximately been at the time, based on how far he had to walk to find the line for the spaceport hovercraft, and estimating for the pace of the line, she would be within the last few hundred yards, close to the end of the line. He started pushing and jostling his way there, reminding angry aliens that he was Human, he was not technically in line, excusing himself, apologizing, avoiding kicks and elbows as he could, but pressing forward.

He needed to get to her. His heart was beating harder in his chest and he couldn't quell the feeling of anxiety that was wrenching his guts, the fear that he would never see her again. He had heard stories about women who disappeared on alien worlds, on Earth even, of couples separated who were never reunited, of spouses gone mad with hopeless waiting. He tried swallowing but his throat was dry.

"T'Pol!" he screamed again, sick with worry, looking all around. In this crowd, where could he go?

How was he ever going to find her?

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _Notes:_

 _First, I may go on a hiatus after this story. I spend a lot of time and energy crafting my stories and some days I'm not sure I can make it happen again. This is one of those days.._

 _Regarding the story, how do you like the twist where Hoshi is stuck being captain for another round? That was not part of the initial plan._

 _Also, do you think Archer would have been willing to let go of Enterprise if T'Pol didn't need the serum? Or would he have felt differently since he has no connections with the Iustreans? (I don't know the answer)._


	14. Contagion 14 Stand by Me

The boots moved a few inches, maybe a foot or so, and stopped. She moved to catch up with them. As with all diseases, the progression from sick to sicker was not a constant and she found that the rush in her head was subsiding, the fever was more willing to yield to her control. She could finally look around but saw nothing other than a sea of aliens moving in counter direction as the line pushed them along.

The fever was laying waste to the synaptic scaffolding that kept her emotions in check and she was falling victim to a rising anxiety that she could have tagged as being illogical if Trip had been there. But Trip was not there, she was alone facing an uncertainly short future, on an alien world, soon to be confined without the benefit of any help or anyone even knowing where she was. She looked anxiously all around for anyone she knew but there was only the same vast gathering of aliens. If perhaps there were some Vulcans around, she could join them, be with others like her. But there were none as far as she could see. She set aside the hope that there might be some at the sick camp. Hope in a situation like hers was an indulgence.

The bond shook with anxiety and she quickly tended to it, trying to calm herself so it would not reverberate to Trip. There was nothing he could do. He was Human and he had to leave the planet. She clamped down hard on the tendrils of feelings that were reaching out to him on his way to Enterprise, wanting him to come back and be with her. She didn't want him to know about her despair. It would disrupt his emotional balance when there was nothing he could do about what was happening.

She called onto her usual breathing and mind-soothing techniques to try and calm the bond but it wouldn't be calmed. Her eyes suddenly widened with the realization that it was not her, it was Trip's gut-wrenching fear that was drenching the bond with anxiety. She looked around but he was nowhere to be seen. She could only imagine the paroxysm of emotion he must be suffering in order to reach her all the way from Enterprise. Her concern for him grew and she sent reassurance through the bond, trying to soothe him.

But the bond would not be calmed. The thought crossed her mind that a Vulcan mate would have known she was still around, would not be reaching out blindly in fear trying to ascertain that simple fact. 'I am here.' She was trying to let him know she was physically there, still whole, he didn't have to worry. Her mind was too unsettled to access the white space so instead she focused on images of her physical self, the feeling of her presence, hoping the essence of it would reach him.

Suddenly a great calm came over the bond and her head reared in panic. Did something happen to Trip? Now the bond was echoing only with her own anxiety and the slippage of her control. What was wrong with Trip? The concern added another layer of anxiety to that of being sick and alone. Her emotional unraveling had already gone beyond anger, what Trip teasingly called 'the Vulcan go-to.' She fought to maintain control, to find alternative explanations for what had happened. Perhaps Phlox had finally sedated him. That was the most logical explanation. She clung to it like a drowning woman to a buoy.

And then suddenly he was there, right next to her, holding her. She swayed and he kept her upright, kissing her hair, breathing her scent and wrapping her in his arms. She must be hallucinating from the fever. She tried to regain her footing, step away from the illusion and bring herself back to reality, but her progress forward was stopped.

"Hey, stop fighting me. I'm here."

She slumped against him, weak-kneed from the illness and from relief that she wouldn't have to die alone. He must have felt her feelings through the bond, she should have remembered her control was erratic at best. He put his hand on the side of her face, maximizing skin contact. "Stop that. I won't let it happen so you'd better stop thinking that way."

"I beg forgiveness." She shouldn't have let her feelings come across so blatantly, she should have kept control.

"Will you stop?! You're sick for god's sake. Just let it be."

Neither of them moved. He had her in a tight embrace, savoring the relief of having found her again. Nestled in his arms, she was using his physical health as a crutch to regain some semblance of control.

Finally she was able to stand again without support. She took a step away and glared at him. "What are you doing here?!" she demanded, her tone expressing displeasure at finding him by her side.

Trip chuckled. "Glad to see you're feeling better. I'm going with you."

"That is illogical" T'Pol replied. "You are human and as such immune from the disease. Your place is back on Enterprise -"

"- where I won't be able to do anything as Enterprise will not leave orbit without you." Trip cut her off. "And I'm not leaving you when you're sick."

"I am not sick." In terms of bald-faced lies, that held a candle to the time he had told her 'We didn't mate.'(2) He adopted the same expression she had at the time, the 'there-you-go-again' quasi-roll of the eyes.

But she wouldn't simply admit to it like he had then. She was a Vulcan after all. "There is nothing you can do here," she spat at him, feathers ruffled by his knowledge she was in a vulnerable position.

Like she wasn't standing there pretty much shaking with fever, flushed green, her pupils enormous. He wasn't going to be thrown off that easily. "Yeah, you're not sick and there's nothing I can do here. But I'm your husband and I'm staying."

She hissed back at him. "Your place is on Enter-"

"- Wife, attend." He sternly cut her off, holding two fingers. If her eyes were not already so big from the fever, they would have grown wider. Did she think they had been married all these years and he hadn't checked on Vulcan customs? That he wasn't aware that saying those words would trigger the built-in reflex to attend to her mate, conditioned by centuries of ponn farr and survival imperative?

She fell silent and compliantly brought her fingers to his.

Part of him felt guilty to be pulling this trick now of all times, but she was in no shape for one of their usual sparring matches. Another part of him was pleased to the tips of his toes with the confirmation that he was hers. The command would never have worked otherwise. The scientist in him noted how she was burning up with fever, almost too hot to touch.

xx

Hoshi stared at the shuttle speeding away through the porthole. Phlox was gone, they had to break orbit. She had left Lieutenant Reed in charge while she walked the doctor to the airlock, unhappily preparing for his departure as he shot instructions at his assistants all the way to the airlock.

Now they had to go to Nausicaan space. The same place where they were attacked only a couple of days before. And they were to believe that nothing would happen this time because the government of the Nausicaans, an unruly and aggressive species if ever there was one, owed a debt to a section of the Federation that did not exist and was returning some kind of favor that couldn't be described. If they were lucky the same government would still be in place when they actually met up with the transport, and they'd get the serum and make it back to Luspypso in time.

She shouldn't be delaying and yet she wanted to make sure everything was in place. She walked to the wall intercom. "Hoshi to Hess."

"Hannah here". The engineer didn't sound too put upon. That was a hopeful sign.

"Can we go to warp?"

"With the chumps you gave me to work with, it's a miracle we can, but yes, I can give you warp five whenever you want." Hannah's gruff tone lightened up slightly. "Actually, there's a couple of the science personnel I might steal away from T'Pol, but don't let the Vulcan know."

"I won't." Hoshi felt a pang in her heart. If Hannah only knew. They'd had no news from Trip or T'Pol for the entire day and Phlox seemed to say things were not good. They needed to get going right away.

"Be ready. We're leaving as soon as I get to the bridge."

xx

T'Pol suddenly looked at Trip. "Your communicator is buzzing" she said, seeming surprised he couldn't hear it.

Trip took his backpack off and dug deep in to where he had shoved the communicator when it started ringing in the hover craft back to the containment center. He knew it was Captain Archer wanting to talk to him and he was not willing to engage in that particular conversation until he had reached T'Pol and figured out what was going on. And now, he was not leaving her. He flipped the communicator open "Yes?"

"Commander Tucker," Archer's voice sounded none too pleased. "I have been trying to reach you all day. Enterprise had to leave without its Chief Engineering Officer. Where are you?"

Trip looked at T'Pol. "I'm still in line at the containment center, Captain. It won't be much longer now."

"T'Pol with you?"

"Yes, she is, Captain. Enterprise had to leave?"

"Good, I have to talk to both of you. Enterprise had to leave on a medical emergency mission but Phlox stayed behind on Luspypso." Archer was not willing to let them know there was a serum or that Enterprise went to get it, not when people around could hear what he was saying. The last thing they needed was to build everyone's hopes up. "We're going to be helping the Iustreans as a crisis force. I am recalling everyone who's not on board to the containment center. We'll have a command meeting as soon as I get there. You and T'Pol get them organized in the meantime."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Captain"

Archer sounded long-suffering. "Care to elaborate?" He knew his crew well enough to know Trip must have a good reason. Well, good in Trip's mind at least. Archer would be the one to figure out if his reasoning passed muster.

"T'Pol is going to be sent to the s- she won't be there and I'm staying with her." Trip caught himself just as before he said sick camp. They were no longer surrounded by Iustreans but he was not taking any chances. T'Pol shot him a harsh look. She was not pleased that he would tell Archer she was sick. The fact that she didn't react more forcefully also told Trip how sick she must be feeling.

There was an elongated pause on the other end. Archer's tone was terse, neutral. "Already." A pause. "I thought there was more time."

"If Commander Tucker is needed somewhere else-" T'Pol started.

"No, no. He's not needed any place but at your side." Archer's tone changed. "T'Pol, Dr. Phlox is at the laboratories at OanAn. I'll let him know, see if there's anything he can give you. Trip, I'm going to find out about communications and transmissions while you're there. I'll keep you both posted. Archer out."

xx

Hoshi had retired early for the night, there was not much else to do. They would be going at warp five for the next two days, Travis was manning the ship and they had a bunch of seasoned crew on board. She felt confident leaving the bridge, they wouldn't get into Nausicaan space until the morning. Plus, they had already gone that way once, making the entire journey seem less, well, less adventurous. Routine, almost. She felt a lot more comfortable with her role, the ship, and the crew.

The chime of her door surprised her. She went to open, naked under the silk kimono she liked to put on when the evening was going to be spent between a book and her bed, ice cream optional.

"Malcolm." She hadn't expected to see him, they had mostly been on formal professional behavior.

He shrugged. "Now that it's a moot point whether I agree to be the acting captain or not I thought perhaps we could start talking again?"

Hoshi stared at him from under her eyelashes, not saying anything. After a couple of minutes, Malcolm started blushing and stammering. "Huh, well, okay, I won't bother you again."

She loved it when he blushed, he looked like a young kid. Just as he was stepping away, she reached out and grabbed the front of his uniform, pulled him in and closed the door. She unsashed the silk kimono and let it drop on the ground. "So, what kind of talking were you thinking of?"

The blood dropped from Reed's face down to his crotch, making his pants suddenly tight. Hoshi rubbed herself against him, taking pleasure in the accelerated small gasps of breath coming from him. "Oh gosh, Hoshi" he whispered as she fell to her knees in front of him. Soon he had his hands in her hair, stroking her head softly while every inch of him stood at rigid attention.

He finally managed to pull her off, brought her back to her feet and waltzed her two steps to her bunk. He had promised he would treat her like a goddess and so he would. He stood at the side of the bed, staring down at her milky body, the shadow of his penis throwing a steep triangle on her belly. That was where he proceeded to kiss her first, traveling butterfly kisses slowly over and across her body while she moaned in unsatisfied ecstasy. He lingered along her thigh, slowly tracing a path with his tongue to the inside of her legs before going for a mouthful of her, licking and sucking on her clit and inner lips. It was only when she begged that he finally knelt on the bed, presenting himself as if for a review, before bending over and entering her in one stroke, locking their two bodies in a frenzied embrace. Hoshi screamed first, Malcolm groaning right after her, drops of sweat falling from him as he completed his orgasm in a convex arc.

He rolled onto his back as they both lay gasping for breath, staring at the ceiling, letting the glory of the physical pleasure slowly roll back off them.

xx

"You're going to the sick camp. The hovercrafts are over there." They were still several aliens away from the medical scanners but they were close enough to be in the area where hazmat-suited Iustreans were walking with hand-held temperature scanners, picking out the obviously sick from the rest of the crowd.

Trip took T'Pol's arm, started guiding her away. The Iustrean stopped him "Not you."

Trip turned around "I'm going. This is my wife and I will take care of her."

The Iustrean blinked behind the faceplate. "Why? You're not sick, you don't need to go. You'll find another wife."

Trip closed his eyes, afraid that this would be the point where the combined stress of the day, his anxiety at not finding T'Pol and his worry at finding her so sick, would all come to an explosive head. He had felt so scared when he couldn't find her in the crowd, until all of a sudden the image of where she was called to him in the bond. He was not going to her go. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Trip." The admonishing whisper brought him back to his senses.

"I do need to go and I'm going." Trip gave the alien a snarling grin and grabbed T'Pol's backpack in one hand holding onto her with the other. "I'm sure there are others who need to be checked." That brought the Iustrean back to his task and the rest of the line. One alien insisting to go to the sick camp when it didn't need to was not something to focus on. T'Pol looked at Trip but she didn't protest his arm around her waist. He knew she didn't technically need the help but he was convinced that every little thing helped.

By the time they reached the isolation camp the first sun had set over the horizon and T'Pol was walking groggily. Trip half walked and half carried her to the tent they were assigned. There was only a thin plastic mattress on top of a small lattice platform. The rest was red sand. Trip looked around in anger. This was not a sick camp. It was a mortuary. A rollbot approached, asking for directives and Trip requested another single-space mattress.

He looked around in despair. It was a mortuary. He knew the disease was often fatal to Iustreans and he had been in denial that perhaps it was not the case with other aliens. He needed to call Phlox.

He could feel the heat from T'Pol's skin and the overly tight control of the bond. "It's okay, you no longer have to." He whispered to her. "We've arrived." He sat down with her in his lap, holding her so she could somehow regulate her body temperature on his. She closed her eyes and he was swamped by a wave of fever. God she was so sick. How had she managed to keep it hidden this whole time. Before he even knew it he had his communicator in hand, calling Phlox.

"Commander" the doctor's tone was stern.

"You knew." Trip couldn't stop himself from sounding accusatory.

"There was too much risk to the Enterprise personnel. We didn't know how the Iustreans were going to react."

"But how can she be so sick so fast. She was fine this morning."

Phlox sighed. "T'Pol was most likely infected the same day you were, the day after your arrival. Vulcan's defenses are so strong that it takes a while before the symptoms overpower their control. It makes it look like she suddenly became extremely sick but she has been sick for four days already."

"But she didn't have any bad dream or anything."

"She wouldn't. Vulcans don't dream, Commander. The symptom they're getting sick is increased irritability. How is she doing?"

"She has a very high fever and she's a little out of it."

"That would be expected." There was a pause. "Captain Archer contacted me. The government is still trying to get organized but he told me crew members will be at the containment center. I am preparing a supply of Vulcan medication that they'll get to you. I will be back in touch. Call me if anything happens or if you have questions."

Trip lowered the communicator, nestling T'Pol and stroking her arm. She was no longer controlling the bond and he could feel how very sick she was. And he was worried. There were so many questions to ask Phlox, but not with her in his arms, able to feel his reactions to what the doctor would say. When she settled down he would call him back.

He had been so blind. Always looking at things through his Human perspective. All the times he should have known something was off, would have if he had been a little less ethnocentric. "I am showing no symptoms." So literal. She had symptoms, she was just not showing them. Her sleeping late the day the innkeeper died. She was Vulcan for god's sake, she didn't need as much sleep as he did. If he had been Vulcan, he would have known. Her shivering when the temperature didn't feel cold. Of course, it wasn't cold. She was getting sick. A Vulcan husband would have known. As an engineer, he knew when one of his engines was not running right even before the alarms sounded. He saw the image of T'Pol slightly out of breath as they climbed up the city center stairs. He should have known.

If he were the one being sick, she would have known. Sometimes he suspected she was monitoring his vitals without ever letting him know. She would have known he was sleeping more than was normal for Humans, she would have been aware it was not so cold outside that he would shiver, she would have looked beyond the first glib statement about his health. He had failed her. And now he might lose her. He felt so inadequate.

She stirred in his arms, sensing what he was feeling, and brought her hand to his face, cupping his jaw. "You came back." She didn't have the strength to say much more but the bond completed the feeling of awe and gratitude. A Vulcan husband would have acted for the good of the many, and the good of the many would have placed him on Enterprise when it left on an emergency medical mission. A Vulcan husband would have left her behind even though she was sick and alone and scared. Illness was not something Vulcans were used to dealing with and Trip could feel through the bond that she was scared. A Vulcan husband would have helped her control her emotions and shore up her synaptic scaffolding and then he would have left, for the good of the many. And she still would have been sick and alone.

Trip smiled at her, sending reassurance through the bond. "Sshh, it's okay. I'm here and I'll take care of you. You're not alone, I'm not going anywhere." He may not know much about synaptic structures but he knew about being scared and sick.(3) There were some things a Human husband could do well after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

(2) Bound.

(3) Desert Crossing.


	15. Contagion 15 Hoshi's Chops

The sides of the tent rolled up automatically, letting in the milky grey light of dawn and Trip stirred. Still half asleep he checked that his hand was lying protectively on T'Pols chest. Eyes closed he could feel her dry warmth, the quick and shallow dipping with each breath. A wave of relief washed over him. Phlox did say that the disease may not progress as expected, that this particular virus was only a distant cousin to the original Nausicaa virus, and he could no longer sleep without worrying.

Trip got up, stretching, and stepped out into the wide sandy alley between the tents. Theirs was space B-1534, at the corner of the first alley. There were fifteen alleys like these spreading out behind him. Twice a day, the flaps lining the alley were automatically raised, allowing the medical robot to look inside. That was 'collection time', the time of the day he had started to hate more than any other, even the hours spent awake at night because of the moans, shrieks and ululations of those soon to die. The disease was as virulent as it was lethal, the tents were never empty for long, a steady stream of incoming cases from the containment center replacing the steady stream of corpses taken out each day. At some point there would be no aliens left at the containment center, but that time still seemed far away. It had only been two days after all.

He saw the medical robot inching his way up the alley, a squad in hazmat suits following, stepping into tents where the robot detected no sign of life, coming out carrying one or several bodies, always mottled with dark circles, and piling them on top of the flat platform wagon pulled by the robot. The death chariot was approaching their tent and one of the hazmat figures saluted. "Commander Tucker."

"Crewman Dommendorfer" Trip nodded back. Archer and the Enterprise crew had stepped in where the Iustreans were thinly stretched, erecting a dispensary, taking account of the dead and noting their identity, helping to run the camp where Iustreans were hampered by their susceptibility to – and fear of –the disease. Everyone helping run the camp wore a hazmat suit, even the Humans. The risk otherwise was too great.

Trip saw the crewman glance at the prone form of T'Pol as he walked by and experienced a sudden rush of anger, the desire to grab the man by the throat and squeeze the life out of him. He shook himself, pushing back the anger. Having the bond open while T'Pol's emotional defenses were laid to waste by the disease was somewhat inconvenient, making him experience powerful Vulcan emotions on top of his comparatively measly Human ones. And Vulcans really did run furious at the drop of a hat. Fortunately, he was starting to get really good at telling which were his feelings and which were those of a primeval Vulcan. He gave the crewman a friendly wave. The man was concerned about T'Pol which made him curious, he was not compromising her privacy and did not have views on his mate. Trip would be glad when he no longer had to go through the mental gymnastics of sorting these kinds of things out.

He walked back into the tent, now aware the subject of his thoughts was awake and knelt by her side. "How' you doing?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him. At once, he knew what she was going to say. "It's not illogical to ask how you're doing even if you're sick. You know that the fever is not constant."

She gave the slightest nod at that "The fever is down."

Trip laid a hand on her neck to check for himself. Yes, the fever was down but her skin was hot and dry and the fever was going to rise along with the suns. "I'll give you one of Phlox's hypos before I go to the dispensary. I'll only be gone a couple of hours." He paused. "You need to drink something." That was a huge point of contention. Forget eating, if she would only drink. Phlox and the Iustrean doctors had quickly identified that what killed the first Iustreans in droves was that they didn't drink. Another symptom of the disease. He knew that drinking triggered intense bouts of nausea but Phlox had been adamant that she needed to keep hydrated. For some reason related to the disease, intravenous hydration was not a possibility.

He held her upright while she downed a mouthful of water, cradling her until the awful dry heaves subsided and she could swallow the next mouthful. Eventually she refused any more drink and laid back down exhausted. Trip looked at the measure of how much she drank. It was not enough but it was better than nothing. They would try again when he came back.

"You also need to eat" Trip reminded her. Anything to keep her in a conscious state.

"I am not hungry" Her voice was hoarse.

"Well, you need to eat anyway. You can have plomeek soup as soon as Enterprise is back, but in the meantime we have to do with what Phlox sent."

She nodded, then turned her head to the side and fell asleep. Trip looked at her then walked to the square case and picked up one of the hypos Phlox had prepared. She didn't react when he pressed the hypo against her neck.

He carefully passed the medical scanner over her body before waving at a rollbot. The mechanical contraption came by and he hoped on, telling it to go to the dispensary. He hated to be away but the dispensary was where he could talk to Phlox without her knowing about it, and he could always lend a hand when he was there. There were hundreds and hundreds of sick aliens and only forty or so immune Humans to help the Iustreans. T'Pol would still be asleep when he came back and in the meantime the bond would let him know if she needed him.

xx

The dispensary was a four-tent square that Archer had the Iustreans assemble for the crew and whomever else needed it. Trip saluted the few crewmen who were lounging on their break, went to the vidcomm along the long wall and inserted the mediscanner. The results would get to Phlox a few minutes before he called him about what came next.

"Trip!"

Trip turned around in surprise. He hadn't expected that Archer would be there. The captain would have his hands full overseeing the organization of services. He passed a hand over his stubble, wondering if Jonathan was going to say something about it. But his friend obviously didn't come for a dress review.

"How are things going?" Archer asked.

"Phlox says they're about as expected but you know as well as I do that they're not going well. Have you heard anything from Enterprise?" Trip eyed him suspiciously. Did Jonathan come as the bearer of bad news?

But the captain was quickly shaking his head. "No, nothing at all. I don't expect we'll hear from them for another day, when they're out of Nausicaan space and back on their way."

"So?" Trip looked at his friend, wondering why he was there.

"I just wanted to come by, see how things are going here at the camp, see how you're doing." He emphasized the 'you'. "Is there anything you need? How are you doing on food?"

Trip thought back to the meal rations that were accumulating in a corner of the tent. He could hardly eat himself, on pins and needles with the waiting. His efforts to get T'Pol to eat had been fairly unsuccessful for over a day now. "She's not eating." he replied.

Archer sighed. "What about water?"

They had plenty, but Trip recognized Jonathan and the rest of the crew needed to feel they were helping. "We probably could use another couple of gallons."

"Ok, I will put that on the next order. You'll get it this afternoon." The crew was in charge of getting food and supplies to the camp, taking special care to bring Trip and T'Pol everything they asked for.

Trip sighed. "It'd be a lot better if Phlox had a vaccine already."

"You know he's beating himself up about T'Pol."

"Yeah, well, it's not his fault, there was less than a 1% chance she wouldn't get infected once on the planet. Vulcans are really susceptible." Trip too had wanted to hold the doctor responsible, but facts were that he could not, not really. "Talking about Phlox, it's time for me to call him." Trip walked towards the vidcom unit, noting with some dismay that Archer was still with him. It dawned on him that with everything going on Archer may not have the opportunity to check in with Phlox that often.

The doctor was somber, as he'd been since the start of the disease. He started talking as soon as the image materialized. "I reviewed the results. Things are proceeding as expected."

"What does that mean?" Archer asked, knowing that Trip heard Phlox's comment as positive. Trip looked at him in surprise, didn't Phlox say things were proceeding as expected?

"This means that the disease is progressing." The doctor sighed, looked at Trip. "I don't believe the Commander fully appreciates that this disease is often fatal for Vulcans."

"You said one chance out of two she'd survive." Trip replied.

"No, I said the survival rate is 49%. Do realize, Commander, that these are abysmal odds. But we won't know for sure until there's skin involvement." The unspoken hung heavily between the three of them.

"What about the serum?" Archer asked.

"We only know about the serum through the IME and we don't know how it affects aliens other than the Sari'Loman. And it's not a silver bullet by any means. It only cuts the death rate in half." Phlox paused "To give you an order of reference, what you have left is the death rate for the Great Plague on Earth."

xx

"There's no ship." Travis was looking at his sensors, surprised that he wasn't getting the bleep signal of another craft. He had so thoroughly assumed that they would be meeting the Nausicaan transport at these coordinates that he hadn't even entertained the possibility they would not be there.

"Are you sure?" Hoshi sat up straighter in her chair, frowning at the screen.

Travis swiveled his chair halfway around. "There's nothing there."

"Lieutenant Reed, check the coordinates, make sure this is where we're supposed to be."

"Aye Captain." Reed went over the transmission tapes from Harris.

Hoshi looked over at Wygdeld and Yonde, whatever their real names were, standing by Travis. They were the ones with the most familiarity with Nausicaan space. "Any clues?" Wygdeld stepped over to Reed's station, looking over the console at the tapes streaming by. "The Nausicaans we've rendez-vous-ed with have always been on time and at the indicated place."

Hoshi nodded, chewing on her lip. She addressed the bridge in general. "Suggestions, anyone?"

"Perhaps they're late." Travis just couldn't believe they were not where they were supposed to be.

"Engine trouble?" the science Ensign brought up. Helping Engineering had given everyone in the science department a renewed understanding of the importance of a working engine.

"Are we sure the Sari'Loman gave them the virus?" someone else said. Reed noted the cadet who was speaking. He liked the way her mind worked. He would have to talk to her about joining security.

"Unless they got attacked also." Reed contributed. He didn't trust anyone in Nausicaan space. He didn't trust anyone, period.

Hoshi got up, needing to pace the tension out of her arms and legs. All of these were valid possibilities. "When were we supposed to meet them?" she asked Reed, without turning to him.

He checked his logs. "They gave us a six-hour window. We still have four hours before we can officially say they're late."

Travis cut in. "When two ships have planned to meet in space, they send a short-subspace transmission to alert the other if there is something unexpected, like engine trouble," he nodded at the science station "or the Sari'Loman were late" he nodded at the cadet.

Hoshi's frown deepened. They were in the middle of Nausicaan space to meet a ship that was supposed to be there and that wasn't. And if there was no ship, there was no serum. And no point in Enterprise being there.

The answer was clear. She had to find the ship. "Ensign Mayweather, start at low impulse toward the Sari'Loman space quadrant. Keep a couple of the sensors locked on aft. Check for all traces of ionization as you go."

"You're going to try and find them?" Reed was obviously floored by the idea.

"We have to assume they're on their way to the rendez-vous point and simply delayed."

"Or we could be flying into a trap!"

"What do you suggest, Lieutenant? Wait in place?" Hoshi shook her head. She was not shaken off the conviction that the ship was simply delayed.

"We don't know what happened. The cautious solution would be to go back."

"And what? Watch while millions die and explain we were not sure what lay ahead? We need the serum. And I don't believe it's a trap. Travis, you have your orders." But Hoshi was not Archer. She had always swore to herself she wouldn't command by stepping on others' shoes when she didn't like what they had to say. She turned back to Malcolm. "We're not going out on a limb, not that far out. If we don't find anything in, huh, four or five hours, we'll turn around."

She sat back in her chair, leaning forward, towards the screen and the space beyond it, her whole body on the hunt. It had always struck her how they had found the first sphere in the Expanse because Archer kept going even after T'Pol said to go back.(4) Archer had followed his gut and he had been right. And they had been so close to the sphere. She was following her gut because her instincts were telling her to go forward. But she wasn't willing to bet the house on them either.

"Four or five hours." The accent was all British and the tone carried all the disapproval of a long chain of maritime command. That was very obviously four or five hours too long where Reed was concerned.

Hoshi didn't reply. If he didn't like it, perhaps he should have considered letting her step down as acting captain. Now he was stuck with her.

xx

T'Pol woke up. She couldn't see in the dark and she was feeling light-headed. She strained to hear any sounds but there were none. Her mother must be down in her study and her father would soon be coming back from his travels. She knew her mother would bring her plomeek soup when she stopped working.

She still couldn't see and there was no sound. "Ma-mekh?" she called. Why wasn't her mother answering, if she was holding her? Unless it was her dad? "Sa-mekh?" perhaps he had come back from his travels to take care of her. But why weren't her parents talking to her.

Suddenly she felt arms lifting her up, someone was cradling her. "It is hot" she told them. That must be her mother holding her. "Can I have a drink of water, it is hot." Her mother pressed a glass of cool water in her hand. She couldn't see the glass but she could feel the reassuring coolness of the container.

"Did you see them?" she asked. "Did you see them? There were two of them. They came in the middle of the night." She had seen them, hiding in the shadows, ready to burglarize a dwelling. She was looking at the street, watching them. "Did you see them?"

Her mother was answering, or perhaps her father, she couldn't tell, nor what they were saying. "Ma-mekh, it's hot, can I have a glass of water?"

Trip kept talking to T'Pol, trying to get through to her. She was delirious, had been talking in Vulcan. She was so hot it almost burned him to hold her. The communicator line was open and Phlox had made him give her a dose of anti-fever medicine and then when that didn't work, double the dose. She had finally stopped talking, seemed to go back to sleep, and he was still holding her, waiting for a sign the fever was coming down or the delirium was over.

T'Pol woke up, looked at Trip's face so close to hers, realized he was holding her. She felt the coolness of his skin where it touched her, piercing through the heated air that was all around. She focused on the coolness of his skin. She had thought she was back on Vulcan, with her parents, but it must have been a dream. She wanted to tell him but it was too exhausting to say it, she found herself wishing he were more telepathic. "My parents?" she asked.

"You were delirious" Trip replied "but the fever is coming down." T'Pol nodded. She didn't want to speak, just wanted to go back to sleep. She closed her eyes. But Trip wouldn't let her go. "Have some water", he said, holding a container to her lips. She drank and the water was deliciously cool. But then the nausea started. She shook her head at the next offer of water. Trip caught her on the edge of oblivion, forcing her to pay attention again. "Are you in pain?" She shook her head. "Tired" she answered. Why couldn't he let her go to sleep? Then he was quiet and she felt herself pulled into a vortex where there was nothing.

Trip dutifully pulled the mediscanner and passed it over her, from head to toe. The display came to life in red signs and figures. Fifteen minutes later, his communicator beeped and Trip flipped it open. Phlox didn't waste any time. "We have entered the subliminal phase. 20 cc's of Pnoxalicyne, Commander, to be repeated every four hours. Call me right away if the fever spikes again."

Trip nodded into the communicator, realized Phlox couldn't see him "Got it, doctor. Anything else?"

"Yes, keep checking her skin. Let me know if anything shows."

xx

"I'm getting a reading!" Everyone on the bridge jumped at the announcement. Travis looked up from his console, trying to visually confirm what the sensors were showing. "Ionization trail fifteen thousand miles northwest from us, it has to be a ship. Fairly recent."

"Go for it." Hoshi sat back in the chair, looking ahead like everybody else.

"No, I'm getting the trails of several ships." Travis corrected after a few minutes. Everyone on the bridge looked up. Wygdeld approached Reed. "If there's more than one ship, they're rebels," he whispered to him. Hoshi turned to look at him. She didn't appreciate his obvious disregard for her position as captain. Malcolm caught her eye, cleared his throat. "I think the Captain needs to hear this," he said pointedly.

Wygdeld realized he had no choice and approached the chair, repeating what she had already heard. Wygdeld didn't know that she was the communications officer when she was not captain, with a hearing range to rival and sometimes better that of T'Pol. She nodded, lips pursed. "Lieutenant Reed, go to red alert. Travis, follow these trails."

She could feel Malcolm's eyes in her back, knew that he was very much in disfavor of following the trail before he even spoke. "We could be flying into a trap."

Hoshi smiled inwardly. That was the second time he had used these exact words. But she still had a feeling they were very close. She couldn't explain, but she knew she was right. "Be ready to engage at a moment's notice." Or what was the point of being on red alert? "Travis, keep telling us what you see."

"We're almost a half a day away from the rendez vous point." Travis softly pointed out in reaction to Reed's comment. Hoshi understood, they were going farther into Nausicaan territory, further away from Luspypso where they had to bring the serum back.

"A little longer, Ensign." She didn't know where that quiet assurance she was showing came from.

Long minutes went by. And suddenly they were on top of it. "A ship!" Travis exclaimed.

"On it, Ensign."

Travis brought the Enterprise within a few hundred yards of what must have been a ship in better days but now was only a burnt shell rotating slowly on itself. The Nausicaan transport was at an awkward angle, scorch marks all over its engines, and a toothless gape showing where its doors had been.

They all stood in transfixed silence. "Lieutenant?" Hoshi asked, her throat dry.

"I don't read Nausicaan but that looks like the right symbols." Reed replied.

Hoshi turned to him. "It says "Shoals" in Nausicaan."

Malcolm sighed. "Yes, that was the transport."

Hoshi turned to the science station. "Any biosigns?" making a mental note of the crewman's name and to let T'Pol know to keep him away from bridge rotations. There had to be personnel in the science department that you didn't have to ask for everything. She was starting to realize how invaluable it was to have someone at that post who was thinking, who would serve information right before the officer in charge realized it was needed. She found herself wanting T'Pol back as a friend and as an officer.

"No life signs. The ship looks empty." The science crewman replied.

"Any way we can find if they still have the serum on board?" She thought she already knew the answer to that question, but perhaps there was some special characteristic of the serum that they could trace.

"No, sir, there is no way for us to see if they have serum on board." The response was not unexpected.

Hoshi stood up, looking fixedly at the vessel. And then she knew exactly what she needed to do. "Travis, have a shuttle prepared with two MACOS, and another pilot than you, we need you on Enterprise. I'll be leading the landing party."

"Captain!" Malcolm was already by her command chair, eyes almost bulging out of his head. "Permission to talk freely, sir."

She had known he was going to talk before he even did. "In my ready room, Lieutenant." This time she walked there ahead of him. There was no time for distractions. Once inside her ready room, she pivoted on Malcolm. "I am leading the landing party."

"You cannot be serious!" He was flushed with repressed anger.

"On the contrary, Lieutenant," she stressed the title, "I am deathly serious."

"You're the captain, you can't be off the ship."

Hoshi felt the urge to laugh. As if Archer had not shown all of them the exact opposite all those years. "The captain cannot be off the ship unaccompanied." She quoted.(5) "And I won't be by myself."

"As the tactical officer, it is my place to explore a potentially dangerous situation."

"As the chief tactical officer, your place is on Enterprise. I'll have MACOs with me. Listen," she added, seeing that Malcolm was going to continue fighting her. "I'm the most logical choice to run the landing party. We are in semi-hostile territory and Enterprise needs its tactical officer. If anything happens, Enterprise also needs a captain with more experience than me, and you are it. If the serum is on the Nausicaan transport, chances are it will be labeled in Nausicaan, which nobody on Enterprise can read as well as I can. I am the most logical choice."

As she said it, Hoshi realized she had found her style of command, a sense of knowing what needed to be done, with a liberal dose of what Archer would do, enhanced by what T'Pol would do, and always conscious of risk like Reed would be. She felt richer for having served with all of them.

xxxxxx

(4) Anomaly.

(5) First Flight.


	16. Contagion 16 The Serum

The pain woke Trip up, strong enough to take his breath away. He doubled over, trying to chase the mists of sleep and understand what happened. It took all of thirty seconds before he realized it was not his pain, it was T'Pol's. He rushed over to her side. She was shaking her head back and forth, the sheen of sweat on her skin, trying to strangle the moans that seemed to find their way in her throat.

"What's going on?" Trip took one of her hands, dropped it as if bitten by a snake. He took her hand again, and he could feel the pain being modulated, sometimes a sharp sting, sometimes a tingling. She was trying to crawl away from him in her urge to avoid the physical contact. He grabbed her by the shoulders, wincing at the pain that seemed to erupt all over him.

"Listen, listen, calm down," but she wouldn't be soothed. "Listen" he repeated, "you are too sick to block the pain. All you're doing is exhausting yourself and you need to preserve your strength. Let it go, just let it go." She looked at him feverishly but the meaning of his words finally reached her. He saw her stop backing away from him.

Now that things were more settled, the rational part of his mind could come into play. "Now what's going on?" he asked, knowing not to expect an answer. He was at a loss. He grabbed her hand and almost gasped from the pain, atrocious, unrelenting, every square inch of his body on fire. And that was only some of what she was feeling.

He whipped his communicator out. "Trip to Phlox!"

"Commander." Phlox was still up, he probably wouldn't be sleeping until he had the serum in hand.

"Something's going on, I don't know what. She's in pain." Trip was chocking on the words, trying to speak faster than he could articulate.

There was a sigh on the other end. Then, "What about her skin?"

"I don't know, she looks normal."

"You need to check the abdomen area, Commander."

Trip turned to T'Pol. "I need to check your skin." She blinked at him, as if she was trying to translate what he said into meaningful bites. After a while, she nodded, and he proceeded to unfasten the top of her thermal suit. He was always astonished how the Vulcan fabric seemed to absorb heat, cold and moisture but always feel point-on warm and dry to the touch. He lifted her undershirt. He caught his breath, trying to school his features while she couldn't see his face. When he could smile again, he looked at her, smoothing the fabric back down.

He turned back to the communicator. "Her skin... the circles." He didn't know how to say it.

Phlox completed for him. "The marks have started appearing."

That was when the moaning started. Trip had heard the cries and screams and ululations of others throughout the day and at night, and thought he ha

d become impervious to the sounds. But hearing T'Pol moan in pain broke his heart. Her eyes were misting over from. A a tear formed at the corner of each eye, slowly making its way towards her ear.

"She's in pain! You have to do something!" Trip cried out. He waited anxiously as silence answered him, realizing that Phlox could hear the moans.

The doctor came back on. "I am sending you a supply of kelpcyne. It's what we've developed for the pain. Give her ten units when you receive it, then ten units as needed but no more frequently than every hour."

"But what about now! Is there anything you can do now?" Didn't he realize that every minute they were waiting for the medicine was one too many?

Phlox sounded sober. "The marks and the pain are from the viral toxins. There's really nothing we can do. You can give her a double dose of Pnoxalicyne, that will help a little but not much. I'm having the compound rushed to you."

xx

Hoshi could feel her heart beating in her temples. Part of her was astounded at the fact she was leading an away team on an unknown ship. Granted the ship was damaged and there were no life signs aboard but it was a long way from the days when she was spooked by space shadows. Still, she would always find it stressful. The MACO ahead of her stepped into the corridor, weapon drawn. Hoshi tapped her mike. "Do you have the schematics?"

She saw the MACO nod his helmet. "Where's the infirmary?" she asked.

"The next corridor on the right."

The four of them walked slowly down the corridor, the space suits turning their step slow and awkward. Hoshi turned to the team as they reached the intersection. "I only need one MACO with me, you two go check the bridge, see what you can find."

"Reed to landing party" the voice cut over their helmets. Hoshi tapped her mike. "We're on board. I'm going to the infirmary," she looked over to the MACO who had stopped by her side "with Wiggins. The others are going to check the bridge. I will be in touch if we find anything." She looked over at Chang and Alkovj. "Contact Lieutenant Reed when you get on the bridge, he may have specific things for you to look at."

The infirmary was empty of bodies, like the corridor they had just gone through. Hoshi scowled slightly, made a mental note. So far they hadn't seen anyone. Wiggins went through the shelves, checking for any unmoored object. Hoshi was going through the other half of the room.

"There's nothing" Wiggins finally said. Hoshi exhaled through her nose, a short sharp breath. She looked around the infirmary, trying to see if here was anything that would catch her gaze, anything that didn't belong. But there was nothing. Where else would they have stored the serum?

Her mike beeped and she tapped mechanically while her eyes raked the room. "Reed to Captain Sato."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Something's off, Captain. There are no bodies anywhere on the bridge, no traces of fight. I don't think you'll find the serum aboard."

Hoshi was thinking. "They could have taken the crew prisoners."

Suddenly she saw a box floating by above her head. "Hold on, I have something." She grabbed it and brought it to the nearest counter. "I found a box of some kind, it's a hard case." It was a large rectangular case with side latches that were unsecured and Wiggins popped it open in seconds. They could see from the foam lining the inside that it was meant to safely hold a small container, except there was no container.

Wiggins was examining the outside. "There's something written in the corner" Wiggins focused his torchlight and Hoshi breathed out in frustration. "The script is not Nausicaan."

"Sari'Loman?" Reed asked over the mike.

"Yes, but I haven't had time to study the language yet. Give me a few minutes." Hoshi quickly called the Sari'Loman alphabet up on her tricorder, figuring out the letters. With a little luck, the roots would be similar to a language she already knew. She straightened up from the case, looking at Wiggins with a puzzled look. "The first two lines are letters and numbers."

"Like a reference number?"

She nodded. "Or an address. This here says... Scir'eelt. That's one of their capitals. "

She suddenly straightened up "I have a feeling it says 'Property of' Most likely a laboratory in Scir'eelt. It must have been the serum." She looked dejectedly at the empty case. "The attackers took it."

"It goes a little beyond that." Reed's voice came over their open mikes. "I had Chang check the bridge and there is no sign their weapons were fired."

"They didn't fight?" Hoshi was shocked. The transport was a good size vessel, there was no way it would have been put out of commission with a single blow.

"They didn't fire their weapons. I have a hunch I know why."

Hoshi looked around. Her command sense told her they were done on the transport. "We're coming back."

xx

T'Pol was breathing rapidly, a sheen on her face indicative that her fever had risen again, but she was not in as much pain. The medication was effective. Trip put the hypospray to her neck and unloaded the full dose. It had been an hour since the last time and he wasn't going to wait until the pain started again. Her eyelids fluttered and she slowly turned to him. "Trip?"

"And who do you think it could be?' Trip jokingly replied. He smiled at her "How' you doing, kiddo?" He saw her breathing slow down and she looked slightly less flushed. He would have to thank Phlox for the meds. "I think we're in the next stage of the disease," he told her when he saw she wasn't going to reply. She nodded slightly. She knew.

He could see the faint halo of the circles starting to mark her neck. Phlox was right, these things were spreading. He should know, he had seen how they mottled the bodies that were pulled out of the tents.

xx

"...and their base is closer to Luspypso." Travis' voice rose in the command center. They had been huddled there since Hoshi and the away team came back, and she was still in her spacesuit. She had stripped the vest off and it was hanging over the rest of the suit, she really didn't care that she was in her undershirt. She had learned from T'Pol not to be embarrassed about her body. It was a body, no more no less, and those who made a big deal of it needed to focus on more important things in life. She would have happily stripped the pants off, too, but being in her boxers would have made her feel vulnerable.

Wygdeld and Yonde, tweedledee and tweedledum as she thought of them, were there too, finally showing why it was a good thing Reed didn't shove them out of an airlock. Reed's theory, and it made a lot of sense, was that the Nausicaan government had received the serum from the Sari'Loman, as planned, and then realized they could sell it directly to the Iustreans for massive amounts of money. Since they owed the Federation a favor they needed a cover story and had sent the rebels in their employ to steal the serum. Without hurting or killing any Nausicaans, of course, which is why there were no bodies in the transport and the damage was mostly cosmetic, requiring comparatively little fix.

What the Nausicaans hadn't planned for, how could they have, they had seen the shuttle with Wygdeld and Yonde explode under their fire, was that the Enterprise was carrying the two Humans who had recently delivered a cargo to the supposed rebels and knew exactly where and how to find them.

Travis had cinched it with his comment about the rebel base being on the way back to Luspypso. Hoshi stepped to the wall intercom "Hoshi to Hess."

"Hess here."

"I need all the speed you can give me. Some ships stole our serum. We need to try and intercept them before they make it to their home base."

"You got it. I'll go out and push the ship myself if I have to." Reed rolled his eyes. Hoshi shrugged. It didn't hurt anyone and she was actually starting to enjoy the way Hannah talked.

"Travis, get back to the bridge, lay in the fastest route. Lieutenant Reed, I need you to work on a plan to get the serum back." She looked over at Wygdeld and Yonde. "You're going to tell us everything you can remember about your trip there. I don't need to remind you that you owe us your lives."

xx

The next day, the Vulcans started dying.

Trip blinked at the sun already high in the sky, feeling the exhaustion of the night before. T'Pol was still sleeping, he wasn't sure if it was courtesy of Phlox's hypos or the new stage of the illness. She had thankfully not had another delirious episode and the hypos seemed to be effective against the pain.

He didn't hear the medirobot come by and almost jumped out of his skin when it rounded the corner right by him. It was too late to step back inside the tent. Trip felt a lump in his throat as he stared at the bodies piled high on the platform bed, the dead of the night. His eyes suddenly caught on the pointed ears of one of the bodies. He knew those ears well. He looked more carefully and saw more Vulcan ears among the dead.

Trip stepped back inside, a vice clamped around his heart. He needed to talk to Phlox, see if he could find out when they had been infected. It would let them know how much time they had. He looked up at the sky, wondering when Enterprise would be back. The serum was their last and only hope. It would take too long for Phlox and the Iustreans to develop their own vaccine.

Trip swallowed hard, looking over T'Pol. The circles were now visible on her neck and her face, violet marks showing the slow spread of the viral infection. Eventually they would cover every inch of her skin and a day or two later, she'd die.

He heard someone clear his throat, looked up to see a hazmat suit looking at him from the alley. It was not one of the crew.

"Yes?" Trip was feeling neither amicable nor talkative. He resented the Iustreans for having sent the aliens to what was effectively a death camp. He understood that they had been caught short and didn't have many options, but he would have preferred T'Pol to be in a real room with real privacy.

The Iustrean inside the suit was staring at him with his white-less eyes. "We have a Vulcan in row AD, all the others with her died last night."

"And?" Trip didn't see how that was of concern to him, unless they thought perhaps he was a caretaker to the Vulcans. Which he was not. There was only one Vulcan he took care of, and that was because she was his wife.

"We were wondering if we could bring her here, we would give you the next tent, the occupant died last night as well."

Trip looked at the Iustrean speechlessly. What made him think he was a caretaker? He started shaking his head no then realized he didn't have a good reason to refuse. He was stuck anyway, and if the Vulcan died because it was alone, it would be on his conscience. And at least the Iustreans were trying.

An hour later, the medirobot brought an unconscious Vulcan into the next tent, joining it to their space. Trip looked at the sick Vulcan, realize it was a female, probably younger than T'Pol, and much definitely sicker. She must have had the disease from the very beginning. But somehow the marks on her were faint, almost translucent. There was not much he would be able to do other than administer medication and whatever else Phlox asked him to inject.

xx

The four small ships were getting closer to the base. Captain Trath turned to his second-in-command, Jotz, expressing his pleasure in a Nausicaan smile. This had been a successful mission with very little risk, the way he liked them. His hand absent-mindedly stroked the container stored in the inner flap of his jacket. That thing was worth a lot of precious metals and he wasn't going to leave it where any of his sticky-fingered crew could find it. They thought he was a pirate like them, they had no idea who really was financing the ships or the missions. If they stopped and thought about it, they would realize how impossible it was that he kept a small fleet of ships afloat, five, no less, on a couple of thefts a month.

They were within view of their asteroid base. "Meigvam wants to know when we're going to get his ship back." Jotz spoke up. Trath frowned. "I've told him so many times we'll go back as soon as the Human ship leaves Nausicaan space. He's lucky I didn't leave him on the ship, for them to exact their revenge."

"What will we do with the money?" Jotz had an eight-track mind on a single subject, his personal pleasure. Trath smirked inwardly. If he had a regular command, not a would-be piracy, he would never hire Jotz.

"First, we need to sell what we have. And that will come after we go to the base and clean-up the ships. After that, if everything is in order, we can go planetside."

"Oh." Jotz was deflated. Trath knew he would perk up soon enough.

"Captain!" The pilot screamed, interrupting any further thought or discussion.

On the screen, coming out of hiding from behind the asteroid, was one of the biggest ships they'd ever seen, so close that they couldn't see all of it.

"Get us out of here!" Trath was half-raised from his chair, Jotz's mouth still open in stupor.

The pilot was trying to turn around, his path blocked by the other three ships as they all tried to figure which side to turn.

"They're firing!" Three energy beams shot out of the ship. Trath's ship shook hard and he suddenly heard the silence of muted engines. "They've taken our engines out!" the engineer bellowed from his station.

More energy beams shot from the starship. Trath knew already it was taking out the other ships. "They're hailing us!" his pilot turned around, looking at him. Trath motioned to open the channel. It was the Human ship. They could see Humans all around.

"You have something that belongs to us." The captain was a small Human with long hair. It kept talking. "We want it back and we're going to get it back. The only decision you have to make is how painful you want it to be."

Trath briefly closed his eyes, calculating the pros and cons of holding on to the serum that was after all the Humans', the potential damage to his ships, the cost of repairs, the annoyance of having to replace any potentially dead crew, and how little he would get from his own government for bringing the serum back to them, whereas he could perhaps sell it to the Humans for a nice sum, enough to repair his ships with some profit built in, and tell his government the Humans had grabbed the serum and ran - and have the government pay for repairs, of course.

His decision was made. Now it was only a matter of agreeing on a price.

xx


	17. Contagion 17 A Race Against Time

_Thank you Ken and thank you Loyalty for giving me great ideas. It's making for a better story._

 _xxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"You fired on my ships!" Trath shouted. Attack was always the best defense. "You had no right to fire unprovoked. This is an infraction to the rules of space! Explain yourselves."

The Human captain crossed its arms, leaned back in its chair. "Explain ourselves? After you stole our serum?! That's not how it's going to work out." Hoshi looked pointedly at the science station where T'Pol's replacement was busy scanning for Sari'Loman metal. If they were lucky, the container was made of metal. If not, they would have a much harder row to hoe.

She leaned forward in her chair. "Where's the captain of the transport?"

Trath blinked. How did she know? He now saw the Human was a female. "What are you talking about?"

Hoshi sighed patiently. "We picked up your ion trails around the transport a few hours ago. The captain and crew of that ship are gone and they're not floating in space. Therefore they're on one of your ships. I want to know which one. I have a special treatment in store for them." She made her voice sound ominous.

"They're not on this ship. And under the piracy laws of Nausicaa, the serum is now my property. If you want, you can offer to buy it. I could be convinced to sell it to you."

The Nausicaan captain's indirect admission the transport personnel was with them confirmed Malcolm's theory. Hoshi felt him splutter in silence at his station. She knew the idea of buying what was theirs by right went against every ethical fiber in his being. Yet, this could be an easy solution, possibly one they would have to resort to.

Using one of Archer's tactics, she got up from the command chair and started pacing around the bridge, looking like she was thinking. This gave her the opportunity to communicate with her people without being seen or heard. Travis had slid over to the communication station. Here was someone she could rely on without having to spell things out.

"Why would we buy what's already ours?" she ad-libbed, just looking to keep the Nausicaan engaged. She turned as she reached the screen, made a swift motion with her hand and Travis cut off the com. Her back was to the screen, nobody could see her talk. "Did you find the serum?" she hissed at the science station.

"I am getting a reading but it doesn't make any sense." At least the man had the sense to talk with his mouth hidden by the science scanner. Hoshi looked over to Malcolm. "Lieutenant Reed, can you assist?" She signaled Travis to bring back the feed as she paced back to the screen. "How much do you want?"

Trath smiled. "In millions of credit?"

Hoshi scoffed. "You're not getting millions of anything. If we don't like your price, we'll get rid of all of you and get a fresh supply. Now make me an offer that I can live with."

She had kept pacing and her back was at the screen again. Again she motioned for Travis to cut the feed. Malcolm was at the science station, looking at what the sensors were showing with a puzzled look and a frown. It looked like it would take at least another rotation around the bridge. Just as she was going to turn back to the screen she heard Malcolm whisper. "I've got it!"

She looked at him sideways. Travis signaled he had opened the air again. She walked back to the screen. "I'm still waiting."

Trath was scowling. "There's the damage to my ships and then a fair price for the serum." He was trying to figure out how much would be too much to ask.

"The damage to your ships came because you stole the serum. We are not paying for it." Hoshi had paced perhaps a little quicker this time, was coming to her third rotation away from the screen. Travis cut off the line before she even asked. Malcolm talked looking at the floor so his mouth could not be seen. "Security, I need a detail in the transporter room. Crewman, feed these coordinates into the transporter. Captain, distract them while I exit the bridge."

Hoshi turned on her heel as Travis brought the com back. "Actually, I'm not sure we should pay for anything."

"You can't do that." Trath snarled. Now she had the pinpoint attention of Trath and everyone on the Nausicaan ship. She heard the swoosh of the turbolift doors announcing that Malcolm had left.

"I can do anything I want. I'm still waiting for a number. How much are we talking about?"

"It's going to cost hundreds of thousands of credits."

Hoshi laughed out loud. "You're off by an order of 10."

"I can't let it go for less than five hundred thousand."

"I'm sure you can. How much do you value your life and the lives of your crew?" _Now what was Malcolm doing?_ She could only maintain the pretend-bargaining for so long.

"My crew knows I have their best interests at heart. Two hundred thousand."

"At last you're no longer joking."

Trath leaned back in his chair, licking his lips. The tingling sensation took him by surprise. "What_?"

He found himself on a transporter pad looking at the muzzles of six rifles aimed at his chest. A shortish Human stepped up to him. "It took us a while to figure out the signals but we finally realized you had the serum on you." He motioned to two fatigue-clad men and Trath found himself caught in a headlock. The short Human patted him down, reached inside the inner flap of his jacket, grabbed the container of serum, stepped away again. "You can let him go." He told the two men. The ones with the rifles were still aiming at him.

The man walked to the console. "Captain, we have the serum. I'm transporting him back."

And Trath felt the tingle again, found himself back on his ship. On the screen, the huge starship seemed to leap straight at them and then it was gone, replaced with the image of the asteroid and the stars behind it, leaving him with the impotent rage of the victims of piracy.

xx

"Any news?"

Archer shook his head. "Still haven't heard anything." He wished there were news. Enterprise had left three days ago, they should be on their way back already. Two days to the rendez-vous point at warp five, one day to get back into communication range, twelve hours time differential, they should have heard of them. But there was no word and now the waiting had become uncomfortable.

"How's the research coming?" he tacked to a different subject.

"We have a couple of promising leads, but too little and too slowly." Phlox looked as exhausted as the Iutrean scientists around him. Archer knew they were spending sleepless days and nights trying to find an elusive cure to the virus, something that would cut the death rate at least. "I don't need to tell you how much we're counting on the serum." Phlox added.

Archer frowned. Like he needed to be told. "I know, Doctor, I know. I will be back in touch as soon as I have any news." Archer cut off the communication, his attention diverted by a commotion at the entrance to the dispensary.

"I'm sorry, sir, you cannot go that way." That was one of his crew. Archer went over to find out what was going on. A Klingon was trying to gain entrance into the dispensary, unsteady on his feet, at least fifty pounds too light. "I am feeling better. I want off this forsaken planet!" The Klingon was agitated. Archer saw the telltale rings were fading on his face, it looked like this one had beaten the virus. "You need to go to the containment camp, sir. We'll ask them to send a hovercraft." Archer interrupted.

The Klingon looked Archer over, seemed to calm down. Klingons in general tended to fare okay with the virus. Some of the Iustreans also were finally starting to survive, but not enough, never enough. Other aliens were not as lucky though it looked like the virus had taken the most susceptible first. His concern was with one alien in particular, which was why he was at the dispensary. Phlox had told him that T'Pol was in the final stages of the disease. Archer wasn't sure how his being close-by made a difference but perhaps it would. Hope was pretty much all they had at this point. Starting with hope the Enterprise would call back.

He had to go see Trip. He hailed a rollbot.

"Captain Archer here." He announced outside of the tent.

"Come in, Jon."

Archer stepped in and stepped out again to check it was the right tent. It was. Except it didn't look like what he remembered. He came in again and Trip turned to him. "Sorry, I thought you knew. We've got a couple of extra guests." Archer looked at the two new mattresses on one side of the now much bigger tent, then at Trip. Doing a double-take he turned to look at the forms on the mattresses again. This time when he looked at Trip his face expressed the surprise he was feeling. "Huh?" What was Trip doing with three Vulcan females in his tent?

Trip shrugged. "They both lost their families to the virus. The Iustreans asked me if I could take care of them." He paused. "It looks like they'll make it. Perhaps because they're young and female."

"Have you told Phlox?"

"Yes, but he doesn't think there's a correlation. He thinks it's just the luck of the draw." Trip turned to look at T'Pol as he said it. Archer did as well and could hardly mask his reaction. The rings of the disease were vividly inked on her face and the visible parts of her skin. He looked at Trip.

"It's the viral toxins." Trip explained. He passed a hand in his hair and Archer noted how drawn he looked, eyes rimmed with red, a few days of beard, gaunt and exhausted.

"You don't have to do this" he whispered. He meant you don't have to take care of others on top of T'Pol, realized it may have come off wrong. But Trip knew him well enough to hear the meaning behind the words.

"What do you want me do? Just sit here and wait for the serum or a miracle? With death as the only current option? At least if I help them I can make a difference, who knows perhaps something good will come out of it. Where's the serum, by the way?"

Archer frowned. He had hoped to stay away from that one particular question. "I still haven't heard back from Enterprise but it should be back any day now."

Trip nodded disbelievingly. "Yeah, any day…" When he looked at Archer, his eyes were haunted. "Once the rings appear, we only have a couple of days. I talked to Phlox but there's nothing he can do. If Enterprise is not back by tomorrow, they may be too late."

xx

"How much longer?"

"Twenty-four hours at the earliest." Travis's mouth was set in a thin line. He was keeping to the tightest and straightest route he could, pedal to the metal, going as fast as the ship could handle without blowing the engines. Once in a while he would push to warp 5.2, gain a few extra parsecs, before falling back to warp five. The ship would shake in all directions. Hess hadn't appeared on the bridge to skin him alive yet but he knew he wasn't making any friends in engineering. There would be reckoning, hopefully after they got back.

"Science, when are we in communication range?"

"We'll be coming in about two hours, sir." Hoshi sighed, leaned back in her chair, watching the seconds tick by on the arm clock. That was enough time for a shower or a brief sleep interlude, god only knew how much she needed both, but she couldn't leave the bridge, not when Travis was fighting with the fabric of space itself to bring them back to Luspypso.

But that was her own choice. She looked around the bridge. "Anyone whose shift has ended and who's not actively engaged in getting us back to the Luspypso, feel free to call your reliefs and go on your rest period. There's nothing further for you to do. If you want to stay, it's also fine by me. Just make sure you have the rest you need to function optimally."

She was not that surprised when nobody took her up on her offer.

xx

"I'm sorry."

Trip just held the communicator, unwilling or unable to hear what Phlox had just said. Jon came over and gently took it out of his hands.

"This is Captain Archer. Are you sure?" There was no point hiding he had heard every last word of the communication. He realized it was torture for Phlox, but he needed to ask.

"The last results from Commander T'Pol's scans are irrefutable. The disease has progressed as anticipated. Unless we get the serum, and do understand that I don't even know if it will be effective, we have less than a day left. She won't be alive at this time tomorrow. I'm sorry, Jon."

"But she's no longer in pain!" Trip interjected. That had to mean she was getting better, didn't it?

The doctor's voice was grim. "That's a sign that the virus has overtaken the neural system. It usually happens the day before the end. Keep her comfortable and keep sending me scans every hour. And call me if anything happens in-between. Otherwise I'll talk to you at the next scan."

Archer could only stare at the communicator as if it would beep again so he could have a different conversation with Phlox. Trip had turned around and was standing with his back to him. Archer wanted to go over and comfort him and yet he had a sense that everything he said would be too inconsequential.

"We have to get the serum." Trip's voice was tight. Archer knew that Trip was well aware it couldn't be done, but he understood.

The second sun was already high up in the sky and the third sun was rising on the horizon. He looked up but it was pointless, there was no Enterprise.

xx

Archer wondered who was using a power tool next to the tent. The high-pitched sound was raising him from the heavy slumber he had fallen into from exhaustion. After talking to Phlox he had come back to the dispensary, where the communication system had enough power that they could receive early messages from Enterprise. That was the new front line. He must have fallen asleep in one of the chairs.

The high-pitched sound cut through the tent again but this time Archer knew exactly what it was. Enterprise was hailing them.

He jumped out of the lounge chair he had fallen asleep in, rushing awkwardly to the console, his limbs still suffused with sleep. It took him a couple of extra seconds to locate the switch. "Archer here?" _Please let them be here, please_.

"Ensign Sato here, Captain."

"Hoshi! Where are you?!"

"We got delayed getting the serum. A long story, but we're going to be in orbit in about twenty-two hours."

"Twenty-two hours…" Archer quickly made a mental calculation. "Any way you can make it back faster?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I know you can't."

Hoshi looked over at Malcolm. Neither of them had slept since they first were to meet the transport and he looked as haggard as she felt. Well, apart from the catnaps everyone on the bridge was sneaking here and there.

"We had a delay getting the serum." She was aware she had already said it. What she wanted to say was that should be factored in the equation too, that time should hold its step on Luspypso since they had been delayed through no fault of their own. Otherwise it wasn't fair, was it?

Hoshi realized she was getting spacy from lack of sleep. She briefly closed her eyes and re-centered herself. She chose not to ask why Archer wanted them back faster than they could make it. She had a good idea but she didn't want to know.

"Our ETA is twenty-two hours from now." She soberly repeated. There was nothing else that could be said.

Travis turned to her, eyes wide. She felt the ship start the slow shuddering that indicated he was going to warp 5.2 again. She had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot more of that over the coming hours. Perhaps shave an hour or two.

They were bringing the serum back, and yet their success had the taste of ashes.


	18. Contagion 18 A Time To Die

A trailer was backing up outside, beeping its warning. It was the middle of the night, couldn't they wait to do that in the morning. The realization that it was the middle of the night, why would anyone be backing up a truck finally snapped Trip awake. He rolled on his back, getting his bearings. He must have fallen asleep waiting for the hour to be up so he could send a new batch of mediscanner results to Phlox. His communicator beeped again.

Trip looked at it, not wanting to pick it up. The news was never good. Every time Phlox called, it was to report that the scan revealed some other degradation of T'Pol's vital functions. He just knew this time would be no different.

He picked up the communicator anyway, glancing at the supine forms of the other female Vulcans as he did so. He couldn't help feeling angry that they were getting better and T'Pol was not. One of them was even on the verge of entering a healing trance, according to Phlox.

If only Enterprise would come back with the serum. He flipped the communicator open.

"Commander Tucker." Somehow Phlox, who had never been adverse to calling Trip by his first name before, had been using his full title all along. Trip had a sense that it allowed the Denobulan to maintain a healthy distance, not get so upset about T'Pol and Trip that it would start impacting his focus on researching a vaccine against the virus.

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid I don't have anything positive to report."

Trip sighed loudly. "Well, I figured as much. Thanks for—"

"Wait!" Phlox's voice became insistent. "There is one thing."

"What is it now?" Trip asked in the tone of 'what other disaster could have befallen us'.

"Nothing bad, no, not at all." Phlox hastened to add. "I understand that Enterprise is on its way back?"

"That's news to me." _Now why hadn't Jon told him Enterprise was on its way back_?

"Hmmm, well, it is. But it's not expected to achieve orbit until early afternoon tomorrow."

 _Ah, that was why Jon hadn't told him_. Early afternoon would be too late, by a couple of hours only but too late. Jon had wanted to protect him from the news.

Phlox cleared his throat. "Now we have an experimental compound here that seemed to hold great promises but didn't work as expected. The initial results looked positive but in the end it was just delaying the unavoidable." Trip was wondering why Phlox would even tell him about it. Didn't he realize that if the new whatever-compound didn't work he didn't care? Phlox seemed to feel he had lost his audience. "It only slowed the progression of the disease for a few hours. Which means it could give us the couple of extra hours we need."

Now he had Trip's full and undivided attention. "What did you just say?!"

"It could slow things down and give us the time we need. Now, before I can send it to you I need to make sure there's no adverse effect on Vulcans. I already have a good idea there are none, I helped create it, but I need to run more tests. That will take a while."

"No worries. I'll wait. We'll wait." Trip was still at the 'it will give us a couple of extra hours'. That was all that mattered.

xx

"T'Pol... wake up, T'Pol" Trip kept calling T'Pol's name softly until she opened her eyes and looked at him. She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Listen, we're going to try a new medication that Phlox is working on. It's not a cure but it will slow things down a bit, give us more time. Are you okay with that?"

She closed her eyes again. Trip talked more urgently to keep her from sinking back into sleep, fighting the urge to shake her shoulder. "I need to know you're okay with it. Do you understand me?"

If she didn't answer, the decision would fall back to him and he would proceed, but he really wanted her to be part of it. He suddenly realized he hadn't entertained the possibility she would refuse the medication. All of a sudden he wanted to take the question back, let her go to sleep and be able to do what he wanted.

"Why?" her voice was a feeble croak.

Did she mean why he wanted to delay things or why he wanted to know if she was okay with it?

"Because I love you." That pretty much covered all options.

She raised her hand and laid it on his face as if he were very fragile, very precious. He could feel in the bond the depth of her love for him, her gratitude that he had come back to take care of her. "Oh honey" his eyes misted over "of course I came back to take care of you. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner you were getting sick, I'm somewhat of a chowder head, you know? But you've always known." He basked in the feeling of love that enveloped him like a warm throw, the confirmation she had never held it against him.

And then the question, even as sick as she was, 'a chowder is a kind of soup?' He smiled through his tears "Chowder head as in idiot. I should also apologize for stinking like a pig." Instead of a pig the image of a le-matyah came through the bond, his scruffy half-beard similar to the beast's whiskers, the smell of the animal perhaps less pungent. "Very flattering," his smile grew wider. He felt how handsome he was to her, the pieces of his personality a wonderful kaleidoscope of emotions and character.

He laid his hand over hers, holding it to his face in case she grew tired and couldn't hold it there anymore. "You're going to beat this." Over the bond the faint whisper of admonition not to say something he didn't truly believe.

But he believed it. Because they had no other choice.

"I'll tell Phlox it's okay then. Go back to sleep, don't worry about anything."

xx

"How close are you?"

"We're getting closer, Captain." Hoshi looked over at Travis for confirmation.

He nodded. "Another twelve hours." He had been at the helm nonstop and he would not let anyone else pilot the ship, worried that they would not know exactly how to coax the maximum speed out of the engines or read the orbits of the small planets they sped by and avoid the slightest deviation of course from their gravitational pull.

He was the only one who had not left the bridge. Eventually, she herself had had to yield to reason and get a couple of hours rest, appointing Reed as her replacement, then forcing him and everyone else to do the same. If some didn't hear their alarm clocks and were not absolutely necessary to the orderly working of things, she let them sleep on, knowing they would eventually rush in, hastily dressed and red in the face, mumbling apologies as they tried to finger-comb their hair.

The door swished open in her back and Lieutenant Reed walked by with a beverage container in his hand. He laid it on the console by Travis. "Coffee," he answered Travis silent question. The helmsman nodded, made a motion to pick up the drink, stopped himself and looked at Malcolm again.

"I have always been told a pilot can put the ship on auto-pilot when there's just empty space all around." Malcolm said as a way of an answer.

Travis smiled. "Yeah, we're coming close to a good stretch."

Minutes later, he left the ship on auto-pilot in the hands of his relief with a strong admonition not to touch anything and disappeared in the bridge lavatory, stiff-legged from so much time sitting. When he came out and shooed his replacement away, he hastily downed the coffee, turning to Malcolm with a silent nod of thanks.

xx

The first sun was already high up in the sky and the second sun was rising on the horizon. The communicator beeped again. "Doctor" Trip answered the call right away. He had been waiting all night for this, since the minute he had received the experimental drug.

"It's time." Phlox sounded preoccupied. "But before we do anything, Commander, I want to make sure you understand this is not a cure. At most, it's giving us a few hours. We don't know how many." Phlox paused. "It could be less than we need."

"Yes, I get that." Trip caught Archer from the corner of his eye. The Captain must have known Phlox was about to call, had timed his visit accordingly. Probably to lend moral support. Or to make sure Trip would actually hear what Phlox had to say. Trip didn't really care one way or another. "Any word from Enterprise?" He asked Archer.

"Hoshi has been calling me every hour to let me know on progress. They're close enough that she can reach me on my communicator but they're still three hours away, at least."

Trip nodded. Nothing would ever be fast enough for him. "Here's to hoping the new compound gets us more than that." Trip knew he sounded bitter and sarcastic. And he was bitter and sarcastic. Why couldn't T'Pol have been on the good side of the 49%, like the other two women? He quickly stepped over and injected the contents of the hypo in her neck before he could think too much.

Nothing happened. He realized he didn't know what was supposed to happen. How would they know the compound was working anyway? Trip looked at Archer, then picked up the communicator. "I've injected the compound. Nothing's happening?"

Phlox was sober. "As I said, the compound will do nothing more than gain us a few hours. You should expect everything to pretty much stay the same. If it were effective, the manifestation from the virus dying-off would possibly be worse than the disease itself. Call me if anything changes."

xx

Hoshi hit the chair intercom too hard but she finally had great news to report. She caught her breath but it looked like they had built the thing to withstand blows harder than hers. She exhaled her relief. "Hoshi to Captain Archer."

"Archer here. Where are you?"

If she only had a credit chip for every time he asked that question. "We'll be in orbit within a half-hour, Captain."

She glanced sideways at Malcolm, forced herself to ask. "Is everything ok down on the surface?" That was as close as she could come to asking if T'Pol was okay.

There was a sharp breath. "Yes and no. It depends on a lot of things. How fast can you get the serum to Dr. Phlox?"

"Well, we'll be in orbit in a half-hour. If a shuttle is already waiting for us it could be there within the hour."

Reed had stepped to the command chair, cut in right as she finished talking. "Captain, we could use the transporter room instead if the Iustreans will let us. We're almost within range. The serum could get there before we get in orbit." Hoshi looked at Malcolm, nodding her approval. She was glad he had thought of it. He was the resident expert when it came to the transporter.

"I'll talk to Phlox, ask him to clear it with the authorities. Get ready to transport the serum in the meantime, I'll be back in touch." Archer cut off the transmission.

He had finished talking to Phlox when his communicator beeped again. "Archer here."

The sound of sobbing on the other end sent his heart careening. "Trip?"

"She just had a seizure, Jon. I can't reach Phlox. She's going to die!" Trip was openly sobbing.

"It's ok, Trip, it's ok. I was just talking to Phlox. Enterprise is close to orbit and we can transport the serum. Let me talk to him about getting it directly to you instead. I'll call you right back."

It was ten minutes before Archer could call Trip again, his jaw set. "Trip, listen, -

"- You're sending me the serum?" Trips voice was hopeful.

Archer was aware he had to proceed gingerly. "The Iustreans will only allow the serum to be sent to the lab at OanAn. I have Dr. Phlox on the line with me. He wants to talk to you."

"We need the serum here now, Jonathan! Why can't you make the Iustreans see that?! What is it you're not getting?!"

Archer's eyes narrowed but he decided he was going to give Trip a broad pass. "It's not that easy. Phlox is processing the paperwork right now. He'll have the serum in the next twenty minutes or so."

"Commander!" Phlox's tone was abrupt, meant to shake Trip up. "I understand this is very upsetting to you but the seizures are not dangerous or painful. They're worse for you to witness than they are for her. I need to do a toxicity panel on the serum, find out if it's safe to administer before I can let you have it."

"But there's no time!"

"Yes, there is time. The convulsive phase of the disease will last for a couple of hours at least." Phlox voice rose with agitation.

"Doctor, how long will it take you to do the test?" Archer stepped in to deflect the budding argument.

Faced with a scientific question, Phlox calmed down right away. "I can do a broad pass in about forty minutes, at least find out if it's lethal or not for Vulcans. But a full panel will take four or five hours."

"We don't have four hours or five hours!"

"You realize we don't have four or five hours." Archer's voice covered Trip's exclamation

"Captain, you're giving me an ethical conundrum. The serum could turn out to be toxic in ways we cannot imagine!" Phlox was getting worked up again.

"You'd rather she be dead."

"Trip! That's a completely unfair thing to say and it's not true!" Archer was angry. "Doctor, please go on."

"The serum could kill her after long and painful complications. The decision to proceed with the treatment is one only T'Pol can make."

"Since she's incapacitated and I'm her husband, the decision is mine."

"Not according to her medical directive."

"Her medical directive, Doctor," Trip snapped back "is not to sustain her life in case of irreversible brain damage, it does not apply to situations where the damage is hypothetical."

There was a pause. "Fine. Are you ready to take full responsibility for anything that occurs?"

Trip took a deep breath. "Without the serum she dies. With the serum she may die but it won't be right away. And there may be treatments for the complications." He choked on the next words. "The logical thing to do is to proceed."

"Trip is right, Doctor. It seems this makes the most sense."

"Very well. As soon as I have checked the serum for lethality I will send you a hypospray. About an hour from now." The doctor cut off the transmission. Archer couldn't tell if he was angry or not.

xx

Trip picked up the hypospray from the container. The only thing he knew with any degree of certainty was that T'Pol would die without it. He opened the line "Trip to Phlox. I have the serum."

"Phlox here. You do understand I did not have time to analyze the components of the serum or its secondary toxicity to Vulcan physiology? That she may die from it?"

"I know, Doctor, I know. But she'll die otherwise."

There was a pause then Phlox spoke again. "Let me know when you're ready."

Trip looked at the hypospray in his hand then at the shivering form of T'Pol. It was unbearably hot in the tent under all the midday suns and still she looked like she was caught outside in a snow blizzard. Her eyelids fluttered as she came in and out of consciousness.

He went over to her and gently passed a hand over her forehead, then sat next to her, holding her hand between his palms. He wanted to talk but he couldn't. He was going to cry if he did. He just sat there, holding her hand, focusing on his feelings for her, his joy at being part of her life, what she meant to him and how much he didn't want to let her go. He asked her to promise him she wouldn't die, threatening what he would do if she did and left him alone. He blinked rapidly, looking down at her, not caring about the tears that were flowing down his cheeks.

"Commander" Phlox's voice brought him back to the present and to the tent. "You have to act now."

There was nothing else he could think to say. He pressed the hypospray to her neck.

Nothing happened. He still had an open channel to Phlox. "Nothing's happening?" It sounded like a repeat from an earlier time.

"She's the very first patient to get the serum, I don't know what to expect but I wouldn't expect a sudden reversal. I would also prefer the reversal not to be sudden. As I've said before, the effect of a vast die-off of the virus could be worse than the disease itself."

Suddenly T'Pol arched as if her body was pulled by an invisible thread, her head and heels remaining on the ground. The weird seizure lasted for less than a minute and then she started screaming in pain.

"Doctor!" Trip shouted in the communicator.

"Commander!" Phlox replied as loudly. "The pain being back means her neural system is coming back. That's actually a good sign!" He didn't add that it was also a sign the virus was dying off a lot faster than he would have preferred. He hoped she didn't go into Vulcan metabolic shock.

The screams eventually died down. Silence went on for a while and Trip came back on. "So what's next, we're going to go through the whole thing in reverse?"

"As I've told you before, Commander, I don't know. I don't have any experience with the serum." Phlox's voice was rising with the frustration of not knowing and not being able to do anything, stuck as he was on OanAn.

New sounds broke the silence, which Phlox could not interpret. He tried to catch Trip's attention. "Commander! What is going on?!"

"I don't know! She's bleeding!"

"How badly?"

"There's blood all over her face. She's throwing up blood."

Phlox tensed. It didn't sound like metabolic shock. "Commander, listen to me very carefully. Remember the hyposprays I had sent to you when you first arrived at the camp? I need you to inject 20 units right away."

Trip rushed to the corner where he kept the medical supplies, fumbling with the side latch but finally getting the case open. He rushed back, trying to hold the hypo straight in shaking hands. "Twenty units?"

"Yes, quickly."

There was one last convulsion, a spasm so violent her head would have hit the ground with great force if he hadn't been holding on to her. And then silence. The silence was surreal, as if a switch had been flipped. Trip threw the communicator aside and grabbed the mediscanner, passing it unsteadily over her. The numbers showed up orange, no longer red.

"What do I do now?" he asked Phlox.

"Now we wait" came the reply.

xx

Hours had passed. Trip noticed with a start T'Pol's eyes were open, approached cautiously, worried about what he would to find out. But she was alive, though still breathing too shallowly and too fast. He had wiped her face off as well as he could and there was only an accent of dried blood here and there as a reminder of what had happened.

"T'Pol?" he said softly.

She moved slightly, refocusing her eyes where he was "Trip?" She sounded exhausted.

But she was still alive. Trip felt a rush of elation. The serum had worked, she was alive. "How are you feeling?" he asked

She took a long time to answer then looked in his general direction. "I think I'll be fine."

He smiled at her, eyes wet with tears, beaming with unrepressed joy.

"But I cannot see anything." T'Pol added.


	19. Contagion 19 The Echolocation Meditation

The sound of the drawer being forcefully slammed shut echoed through Sickbay. Phlox held his breath, worried he would have woken her up, already regretting his upset. It was just that the answer had been right there all along. Not an obvious one, but a neat domino effect of this component leading to that endocrine reaction which generated this amino acid that combined with that other element to form ... that acid. A predictable and unavoidable outcome. If he'd only had more time he would have figured it out, identified the offending element and filtered the serum. It was pure luck that by filtering for a different toxin they had prevented the chain reaction from forming with other Vulcans.

If only he'd had more time.

The monitor atop the lone occupied biobed lit up and Plox swore in Denobulan under his breath. He had to keep reminding himself that her auditory nerves were just fine. He walked over to the biobed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

T'Pol turned her head in his direction. "No apologies are necessary. Did you drop something?"

Phlox smiled at her, realized she couldn't see his smile, also realized she had no idea where the sound came from. "No, caught it just in time." There was no point letting her know about his anger and frustration. He flicked the main light on. "As long as you're awake, let me check you out."

She let him go through the process willingly if somewhat unenthusiastically. The violet rings had faded against her skin and would be gone within a couple of days. Phlox needed to check her abdomen, realized there would be skin to skin contact. There was no point hiding what he was feeling. "I realize this may not be the proper time or form, but I figured out exactly how it happened, if you're interested." He felt her tense slightly. He tensed in response, worried about creating false hopes. He would have to explain very precisely.

xx

"So she'll get better?" Archer surmised, Trip nodding in shared understanding. The three of them were seated in the ready room, where Phlox had just gone through the explanation again, in a summarized form.

Phlox sighed. Those were exactly the kind of false hopes he had been worried about. "The issue with neural injuries is that there is really no way of knowing. Yes, theoretically, the nerve should heal. But should doesn't mean will. There is no way of knowing _if_ it will, or how long that will take." His interlocutors grew silent as Archer considered the impact on his ship and Trip the impact on his life.

"So what exactly happened again?" Trip needed to get his engineering mind around the issue, harbored the secret hope that perhaps he could find a mechanically-inspired solution.

Phlox thought for a while. "The nerve is too impacted and inflamed for a cellular diagnosis but I believe that an inert component of the serum created a chain reaction that ended with the formation of ciarmoric acid, which caused an interruption of the mitochondrial function in the optic nerve. The retrolaminar optic nerve is affected, with intra-axonal swelling and organelle involvement, but I have a feeling knowing that is of limited use to you. The one thing we have going for us is that the amount of ciarmoric acid produced was minuscule. On the other hand, exposure lasted for several hours, which is far from optimal."

Trip had a faraway look in his eyes. Archer was the first one to gather his wits about him. "How long does a nerve usually take to heal?"

Phlox thought about adopting the very Human gesture of squeezing the bridge of his nose in frustration. "As I keep saying, there is no assurance that it will. And there is no way of knowing how long. It could be years, it could be never."

"Years?" He was finally getting through to Trip.

"Years, Commander. I could also be months, three months, six months, eighteen months. As I said, there's no way of knowing."

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Archer asked of the room. The question could just have easily have been Trip's.

Phlox was getting irritated by the implied denial. "In the meantime, we're still in orbit around Luspypso helping the Iustreans with a very grave medical crisis. Why would that be different, hmm?"

Archer frowned at him. They both knew that was not the question he had asked. In any case he was not ready to have that conversation in front of Trip. "Very well." He got up. "Trip, meet me in the transporter room at 0800."

They would be going back planet-side in the morning. The crew of Enterprise was still serving as an emergency relief force down on the planet, shuttling between the ship and Ahrijht. Though the crisis was almost over, there was still plenty to do. The initial rush to produce gallons of the serum, filtered of the toxins that Phlox and the scientists at OanAn had identified, had subsided, and now they were helping the survivors get back on their feet.

xx

"Hey" Trip said softly as he got closer. T'Pol turned towards him, her eyes focused on a point that missed his face by a few inches

"How are you doing?" She looked a lot better than she'd had for the past week. If it were not for the rings still visible on her skin and the absence of pinpoint focus in her eyes, she looked like she did on any other day.

"Dr. Phlox says I should be released to our quarters in two days."

"That's great." Trip swallowed with the realization he had no idea how they were going to handle the transition.

"How are T'Prell and T'Nara?" Those were the young Vulcans that he had ended up taking care of, however unwillingly. It was the first time she had asked about them. It could be because she was finally feeling better but part of him wondered if she felt jealous or felt threatened. Though that was not the sense he was getting through the bond. Actually, the feeling he was getting was somewhat perplexing, more of a longing. He pushed it aside, something to talk about later, once things settled down.

"They're recovering, pretty much like everyone else down there." Trip thought that wasn't exactly true as he said it. The tide had finally turned, five days and thousands more deaths after they got the serum, but it wasn't a panacea, only giving patients a fighting chance. After that, it was equal parts luck and personal physiology that determined individual outcomes. "I'm told that most of the Vulcans will survive," he added. Again, he felt a weird shadow of longing coming through the bond.

He paused, then blurted what had been on his mind the whole time. "Phlox told us exactly what happened. It sounds like you'll be all right."

"The doctor is very insistent that there are no guarantees. We do not know if the blindness will resolve itself."

He couldn't tell if she was just being cautious. Trip narrowed her eyes at her but there was no response from her and he suddenly realized how expressive her eyes had been, how much they had been part of their ongoing communication, a window into the feelings that she so carefully suppressed. Something he was now deprived of. His heart sunk at the realization.

"Well, granted it might take longer than a few days, but I just have a feeling it'll all be fine," he drawled reassuringly.

Her face may have lost of a lot of its expressiveness but there was no mistaking the intense anger that momentarily flashed through. "You have a _feeling_ it will all be fine? Perhaps you should let Doctor Phlox know." She hissed at him. "Do you think I am a child, best protected from the seriousness of the situation?!"

She blinked, turned her face away from him. "I beg forgiveness. I'm-"

"Hey" He quickly interrupted. What had possessed him to say that in the first place? "Hey, the cause is sufficient." He thanked his lucky stars that the ritual sentence popped into his head. "I'm the one who should beg forgiveness. I'm an idiot." He passed a hand in his hair. "I want it so much to get better but that's not how things work, is it? Truth is, I'm scared. That's why I'm acting like a dolt."

She closed her eyes briefly but didn't reply. He took it as a sign of agreement, either that she was scared too or that he was acting like a dolt. He knew better than to press for an answer.

"Listen" he went on after a while. "It's not like we'll just sit around waiting for this.. this ... your eyes to get back to normal. We'll adapt. You're going to be up and about in a couple of days you'll have to learn new skills, new ways of doing some things. We'll have to." Trip was glad of the opportunity to bring that up. "Phlox is already lining up resources. Some cool stuff, we've come a long way from white canes and service dogs." He was exuding all the confidence he didn't feel, drowning the bond with the certainty that they would deal with everything and anything.

"White canes?"

Uh-oh, did he just put his foot in his mouth again or was it another cultural non-sequitur? He opted for the cultural. "On Earth, back in pre-warp days, blind people used to walk with white cane, like a long white stick." He got a strong imprint of stupefied reprobation through the bond.

"White sticks? Who would attack blind people?" Vulcan had few trees and wood was a carefully husbanded source of weaponry.

Now the stupefaction was on the other foot. Trip quickly caught himself. "No, not for self-defense, to help them maneuver around obstacles." Before she could ask why they had blind people go through obstacle courses, he added. "Like every day stuff, stepping onto curbs, figuring out where they were. That kind of things." Obviously they didn't do that on Vulcan. He wondered what they did. Before he could ask she had turned her head towards him. "What about Enterprise?"

That was an Archer-level question. "Enterprise will adapt. Do you think Captain Archer's gonna let you go that easily?"

xx

T'Pol was listening to the sounds of Sickbay, trying to memorize and catalogue them before she was released the next day. She was alone, Trip had gone to Ahrijht and Phlox to OanAn, where he was working with the Iustreans on an adaptive device. He had shared the basics with her and her scientific curiosity was aroused, though she may never see what they came up with. Iustrean expertise based on Llieoih biology wrapped around Federation technology. It was not illogical to wish she could see it.

The doors swooshed open and she instinctively went on the defensive, trying to identify who had just come from the weight of their steps and the way they moved around. The steps came straight to her biobed. Human personnel did not realize how much like an attack that sounded to Vulcan ears. And they didn't have the ability to project psionically so she would know they meant no harm as they approached. In Vulcan's hostile environment, any vulnerability could be the portent of death and her body was hard-wired to react. She called on mental exercises to reduce her stress, reminding herself that it was not logical to expect a threat on a friendly ship. Perhaps she could ask Trip for one of those white sticks, to keep as a weapon by her side.

"Hi, I'm Medical Specialist Addlai, I came by to see you." The voice came from a height that indicated the speaker was a petite Human. T'Pol quickly went over the personnel files she had memorized, extracted that of crewmember Addlai, 34 years old, blond and vivacious native of New Euralba on Earth. 5 feet 1 and 119 pounds. Even blind, she could easily overcome her and she relaxed her guard slightly. There was a 78 percent probability that Phlox had assigned her because he knew she would find her non-threatening.

"Specialist," she greeted her. Not replying would have been illogical, no matter how tempted she was to point out that the specialist had the capability to do what she came to do. T'Pol realized that it had been days since she had meditated. Now that the disease was receding she was looking forward to being able to meditate again. Her reaction to Trip's awkward statement and her bristly reaction to the small female were proof she needed the mental discipline.

Specialist Addlai was irrepressible. "We'll be starting rehabilitation later today. Dr. Phlox wants you to be able to go about daily activities with or without adaptive technologies." She consulted her padd. "The doctor has you on an intense schedule, we'll be spending a lot of time together." She smiled brightly, unfazed by the fact her smile could not be seen. "Tomorrow we'll go to your quarters, make sure everything is set up for your return and show you how to function in your environment."

A tsunami of anger washed over T'Pol and she closed her eyes as she grasped at elusive control. She couldn't even see the woman who was so casually talking about invading her privacy. A Human female in the quarters she shared with Trip. In her quarters. She wasn't so sure about Phlox's wisdom anymore.

"I am sure I can manage." It was a great effort to keep her tone neutral. She needed to meditate.

"Oh, poppycock" Specialist Addlai went on, quite oblivious to the danger she was courting. "We'll make it all easy for you. You'll see, you'll be happy we did."

Vulcans did not get happy. They may experience deep satisfaction, but they were not 'happy'. And certainly not over trivial things. T'Pol had no understanding of what Specialist Addlai was attempting to communicate and a pulsating pain was developing behind her right ear.

Specialist Addlair was gone as quickly as she came, leaving behind a female Vulcan with a serious headache.

xx

Trip could tell at a glance how uncomfortable T'Pol was, standing in the middle of the room with the trainer at her side. They had come back from rehabilitation a lot earlier than he expected and were already inside when he arrived. He quickly stepped in.

"I'm pretty sure I can take it from here. Thanks for your help."

"But we haven't started yet. We need to go over some things." Specialist Addlai spluttered in response.

"I've already set everything up. I've been studying about it. We'll call you if we need any help." Without marking a pause, Trip firmly and gently guided Specialist Addlai to the door of their quarters, over the threshold, and gave her a bright "We'll see you tomorrow" before he activated the door shut.

"Are you okay?" He walked to T'Pol, standing rigidly where she was, trying to get her bearings in what should have been a well-known environment. Phox wouldn't let her wear the echolocation aid more than a few hours at a time for the first three days, concerned about avoiding excessive strain in the early stages. It was true that the device was uncomfortable for her hearing system and the activation of new areas of her brain was a somewhat painful adjustment, but when she wore the echolocation device she could perceive the world around her. Three-dimensional objects and people were rendered in pixelated shades of surprising accuracy, though the two-dimensional was still shrouded in an ocean of darkness. Still, it was akin to stepping from the deep night into a bright new day.

"Come, let's sit on the couch." Trip was right by her side and he gently guided her there. Knowing where she sat gave her a mental image of the rest of the room. She was grateful he had thought of giving her that anchor. There would be 5.3 feet to the bed at a diagonal on her left, or 2 large steps, 5 smaller ones. The washroom was 12.8 feet in a straight line and she could walk there by running the back of her hand lightly against the wall.

"So what do you want to do now?"

Her head reflexively turned towards her meditation corner. "I need to meditate." The rehabilitation session had been difficult, the specialist's enthusiasm illogical and grating, crowned by the indignity of having the woman walk into her quarters when she couldn't even see them.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would need that, after the week we've had." Trip's voice tenderly joked.

That was inaccurate. It was two weeks and a day since she'd last been in their quarters. She was going to let him know when she heard a sharper intake of breath, as if something had just struck him.

"What is it?" she asked. She couldn't see that Trip turned to look at her but could hear it in the rustle of his uniform, the slight change in the volume of his voice. "Huh… the candle…"

The realization was like a physical blow. She would not be able to see the flame. She thought of asking Dr. Phlox for the echolocation aid but the strain it put on her system would make meditation impossible. If it could even differentiate the flame. How was she going to meditate? How would she be able to function if she couldn't meditate, her mind slowly poisoned by emotions she couldn't flush out,her synaptic connections in disarray? She suddenly felt the weight of being the only one, a single individual in the immensity of space, a lone Vulcan trillions of years away from those who could readily understand her. "…'Pol" she realized Trip was calling her name, she hadn't heard him in the dizzying clamor of her isolation.

"T'Pol" Trip said again, desperate for a reaction. Even though her face had stayed the same, her unfocused eyes ever lifeless, he had sensed she was stricken by this latest obstacle. He needed to make it better, he had to find a way. She needed to meditate. Beyond the intellectual understanding of what happened if she didn't, he knew this was important to her in ways he could never quite gather. A sudden burst of inspiration struck him.

"Listen" he cupped her hands between these, "remember how you've always wanted to get me to meditate? You said you could guide me there just by talking as I looked at the flame?" He had steadfastly refused, pushing it to a future that never came, worried he would not be able to sit still long enough and would come out looking deficient in some way.

"I think we can try that in reverse. I'll be your eyes." He put her hand where she could feel his pulse. "You'll be able to tell what is going with me, use that as a kind of biofeedback."

T'Pol looked towards his voice. The possibility was intriguing. If that worked, it could actually form the basis of a scientific paper, perhaps there could be other therapeutic uses. Writing a scientific paper without seeing would be difficult but her mastery of assisted technology would only increase with time. At least if she could meditate. "We need to try." Her need to meditate was the overriding concern.

It took some time to find a position that would be comfortable for both of them, which was made more difficult by the need for some tactile contact as a form of biofeedback. They found that too much contact was overpowering, too little underwhelming. Eventually they figured she didn't have to face the candle she couldn't see, and they meditated back to back, Trip trying in earnest to follow her words up the volutes of the flame, to open himself to the new experience, until suddenly a white ball of light burst from him and shook him out of his trance. He slowly came back to his body seated in a meditation stance, surreptitiously checking that he was whole.

"Huh, what was that?" he hazarded.

T'Pol was unfolding herself graciously from where she had been seating, hesitated a moment then took a couple of steps towards the couch, feeling for it when she thought it might be there. She grabbed the edge of the couch and sat. "I was able to achieve a meditative state. Thank you." She offered. She was mindful of the strain it had put on Trip, she had felt how hard it was for him to be still. The quality of the meditation had been low and the duration short. These would improve with time and practice but odds were that she would never meditate again at the level she used to. Another one of the losses big and small since she had lost her sight.

"It didn't seem to be that long." Trip was nervous that perhaps she was saying that to make him feel better.

"It lasted twenty-one minutes." Trip was surprised, it had seemed to only be a few minutes. "With practice, it will last longer. But this provided me with enough time, especially after a long interruption." Trip eyed her suspiciously but she did seem more at peace, there was an element of repose in the way she held herself that he had unfairly and wrongly held to be superciliousness when he first met her. It seemed it had worked after all, however awkwardly and incompletely.

Suddenly he felt much more confident about the future.


	20. Contagion 20 The Talk

"Have you talked to Trip lately?"

Malcolm raised his head from where it had been resting on Hoshi's stomach, kissing her navel near her belly button and watching with interested amusement the shiver that rippled outward. "Not lately, he's never around." He didn't take his gaze off the area he had just kissed, trying again when it saw the shiver had subsided, and smiling in amusement when another ripple started.

"Malcolm, I'm serious." Hoshi groaned. "Can we talk about this?"

"We can talk about this all you want, luv." Malcolm repositioned himself so that his head was resting on her belly and he could look directly at her through the valley of her breasts. He was close enough that he could touch them and he moved his head slightly and began gently kissing the base of the nearest one.

Hoshi sighed, luxuriating in the moment, enjoying the intimacy and amused at her boyfriend's antics. Her head was pillowed on her black hair and she brought her arm under it so she could actually look at Malcolm. But she didn't want to tell him to stop. They could still have a conversation that way.

"Trip is never around and neither is T'Pol. How many times have you see her since she came back from Luspypso? Once or twice? I haven't see her at all."

"I'd say that's reciprocal." He mumbled, intent on his other line of thought.

"Malcolm! How can you say that?!" Hoshi was horrified that he could be making light of the situation.

"Everyone should stop walking on eggshells." Malcom countered, lifting himself up on an elbow and looking at her. "Her not seeing could be temporary and there's no point getting twisted in knots about it. Or it's not temporary and people need to get over it and go back to normal. Her being blind is just a fact, like her being Vulcan. Not something we all have to try and pretend is not there and shouldn't be mentioned." By upbringing, Malcolm was of the 'pick yourself up by your bootstraps' persuasion.

Hoshi stared pensively away from him. It was true, everyone, well, obviously not everyone, but she for one had been holding her breath since T'Pol was brought back to Enterprise five weeks before, still very sick and quite blind. If she could get over the fact T'Pol was a Vulcan, why couldn't she get over the fact she couldn't see. Why couldn't everyone?

She suddenly had an inspiration. But Malcolm had used the time to move slightly forward from where he had been resting, not much but enough that his mouth was now teasing some very sensitive areas of her breasts, and there were more immediate priorities that needed to be seen to. She would talk to Trip at the first opportunity.

xx

"Can I talk to you?"

Trip stopped in the doorway, trays in hand. He was carrying his and T'Pol's lunches, they would be eating together, like they had been since Enterprise left Luspypso. He looked at the content of the lunches, a salad for her and a cold plate for him, he didn't have to worry about the food getting cold. "Sure thing. Where do you want to go?"

Hoshi maneuvered ahead to the corner of the mess hall, where she had noticed an empty table far enough from prying ears. She sat down and waited for Trip to join her. He noticed she didn't have a tray. "You're not eating?"

"No, I needed to talk to you."

Trip hoped this didn't have to do with T'Pol, but the fact Hoshi was the one talking to him made him worry it did. Otherwise it would be Malcolm sitting him down for a talk-to. He leaned backwards in his chair, a sardonic grin already scotched on his face as a shield against anything too emotional. Hoshi saw it, rolled her eyes. "Come on, this is a serious conversation."

"Does it have to do with T'Pol?"

"Yes it does, and no, not in the way you think." Hoshi sighed, pursed her lips. "I'm not going to talk about the fact she's a recluse and has been avoiding everyone and everything on the ship. I'm sure you already know that or you wouldn't be taking all your meals in your quarters." She pointed at his trays with her chin.

Trip was trying to think of a comeback but Hoshi didn't give him time. "It's not working out on the bridge." She said it quickly, as if she might lose the nerve otherwise.

Trip was surprised. "What d'ya mean?" Granted he had been mostly in engineering lately, spending the strict amount of time necessary and rushing back to T'Pol's and his quarters as soon as his shift ended, but whenever he happened to spend some time on the bridge things seemed to be holding up just fine.

Hoshi leaned forward, making Trip reflexively do the same. She looked around briefly to make sure nobody was too close. "The science personnel is just not cutting it. I noticed it when I was acting captain of the Enterprise. I thought it was just a lack of experience because we were dealing with the most junior crew members but now I'm not so sure."

"What d'ya mean they're not cutting it?" Trip was on the defensive. The Science Department was T'Pol's domain and saying they were not up to snuff was an aspersion on her performance. He was surprised that Hoshi would take advantage of the situation to try and take her command away from her. But perhaps he should have expected it. "What are you trying to say?" he leaned back in his chair, waiting her out with a small ironic smile. If she wanted to take over, she'd have to say so.

But instead Hoshi rolled her eyes in her head as if she were hearing his thoughts. "What I am trying to say is that we need T'Pol back on the bridge." She didn't know what weird conspiracy theories Trip was concocting in his head, obviously T'Pol's losing her sight had impacted more than a couple of people on board.

"I don't know why you'd need T'Pol. Thinking about it, you may not even need a science officer. It's not like there's so much for one to do when we're just flying through space." Trip felt defensive again, as if Hoshi was making a flaw out of T'Pol's absence.

"By that logic, none of us are needed on the bridge then, other than Travis and the Captain." Hoshi quipped back at him, annoyed at how dense he was being. "We're all on the bridge in case of the unexpected." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "The trouble is that we can't count on the science personnel to do anything in a crisis. They're purely reactive."

"D'you think that has to do with how T'Pol trained them?" Trip had to ask, if only out of intellectual honesty.

Hoshi shook her head again. "We didn't have that problem before. If anything, I think it's because she trains her people so well that the best and brightest are being picked up as soon as they have a couple of years in them. What we're left with is the ones nobody chose. And those that haven't been with her long enough to learn."

Trip nodded, partly relieved and partly in understanding of Hoshi's issue. It was true that they'd had a lot of turnover in the science department, all by promotion to senior positions on other ships. The ones that left treated T'Pol reverently and she never opposed a transfer. She didn't seem to mind having to train juniors again and again, but then he'd never asked her about it.

"T'Pol can't be the only one who can help in a crisis. I'm sure there are some in the Science Department that are up to snuff?"

"Not that I've seen, and I think we've gone through the whole roster." The retort was immediate.

"What about Ensign Adigo?" After all, he had been leading the science teams, and Lieutenant Reed had even named him as the go-to in his absence. As soon as he said it, Trip remembered that Adigo and a half-dozen crew members, all from the Science department, coincidentally, had stayed behind on Lupspypso where they were ideally situated to keep studying the disease and also serve as a first-line defensive force if the virus were to suddenly jump species again.

"Yes, my point exactly about how the best people keep being stripped away from her department." Hoshi gave a brisk nod. "At this point, if she can't be there, I'd rather have nobody." The vehemence surprised Trip.

"Are you sure it isn't simply that you got used to having T'Pol around?" Trip looked at Hoshi with an amused smile.

"T'Pol may be my friend but this is purely professional. The thing is, we're an army of science officers down and as long as she's on the bridge Enterprise is safe, because she's like an army of science officers just by herself. But now that she's out for the duration," she stole a glance at Trip to see how he'd react, "it could become an issue."

"But it hasn't yet?"

Hoshi reluctantly agreed. "It hasn't, but I just have a bad feeling about it."

"What d'you want me to do? It's not like T'Pol can be on the bridge right now."

"Can't she?"

Trip looked at Hoshi in astonishment. "On account that she can't see, I'd say, yes, she can't."

"And when has that ever prevented anyone from thinking?" Hoshi asked pointedly. Trip's jaw hung slack as his brain did a slow reset. Hoshi saw her opportunity. "Her team members can be her eyes. We need someone who can think ahead. Well, I don't know about Archer but I think we need it." She got up. "Perhaps I'm overthinking it. But perhaps you can talk to T'Pol about it. I'll leave you to your lunch." She left, leaving Trip to stare at her as she exited the mess hall, rolling his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

xx

Trip walked into their quarters but they were empty. It took him a couple of moments before he remembered T'Pol must still be undergoing adaptive training. A euphemism for 'learn how to manage when you're blind class'. She should be done anytime now and she would be coming back to their quarters. The truth of what Hoshi had said hit him, other than rehab she was holed up in their quarters all the time. They both were. Perhaps it was time they came up for air and rejoin the land of the living. Though that was easier said than done.

He stepped into the corridor, waiting for her, knowing that the medical personnel would chide him reminding him that she needed to do things by herself and T'Pol would point out the illogic of doing something that was unnecessary whether she could see or not, and that he would never have done when she could. But he couldn't help himself.

Still, when he saw her rounding the corner he tried very hard to act as if he had just gotten to the door at the exact same time.

"Trip?" The echolocation device that was wrapped around her right ear gave him away.

"I just got here." He tried to sound convincing. An eyebrow rose in response, sending flutters down his chest. He absolutely loved that her eyebrows had not lost their expressiveness. If anything, they had become more mobile, a sign language of their own, amplifying the spoken word or, as in the present case, emphasizing how ill-advised his behavior.

This time the eyebrow was the laser dot for the sniper fire that followed. "Then how come I did not hear your steps coming down the corridor and why are you breathing as if you were standing in place, not walking?"

"Ha, huh, you see, I went in and then I came out and you arrived." Remind him never to underestimate that woman.

"And you were not waiting for me?"

"I wasn't waiting for you." Good thing the echolocation device couldn't pick up on the blush creeping up his face.

"Your body temperature is rising in a manner indicative of stress. You are lying." She brushed past him and walked into their quarters, regal in her indignation.

Trip followed more humbly. That may not have been the best way to start the conversation he needed to have. Or perhaps it was.

She was standing in the middle of the living area, stiff with fury. There was an undercurrent of something else at the edge of the bond which he couldn't quite place. Her eyes were closed and he felt a sudden rush of desolation, almost a physical pain.

He stepped towards her and stopped, wanting to grab her in a hug and unsure this would be a welcome embrace. He ended up stretching one of his arms above his head, then passing his fingers through his air, unable to quite reach out to her. Finally, he bravely closed up the distance and took hold of her hands, guiding her towards the bed and to a sitting position.

He interlaced his fingers with hers. She was blocking the bond, keeping her feelings under very tight control. He wanted to find a way to connect with her and if it meant having to hold her hand, that was certainly fine with him. It dawned on him that it may not be fine with her and he released her fingers. Again, he felt something dancing at the edge of the bond, a shadow that he couldn't name. She was staring into his face with a puzzled look, as if trying to figure something out.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The echolocation device may allow me to see you waiting at the door but it is a fairly rough by any definitions. I can see your body and I can see your face, but I cannot make out your individual expression unless you hold still. The time delay from the echolocation signal is minimal but it is still there."

Something squeezed Trip's heart. "You can't see my face?"

"I can see your face, and I can even make out your features. But when your features are animated, the image is blurry and ill-defined."

In other words, she couldn't see his face. Trip tried to keep his features still, taking a deep breath. "Listen, I don't know how long rehab's supposed to last, but perhaps it's time to get back into the swing of things."

An elegant highbrow underlined his question. "Get back into the swing of things?"

"Yes, get out of these quarters, walk around, go back on light duty." He paused, blurted it out "They need you on the bridge."

"It would be illogical for me to be on the bridge when my abilities are compromised."

"Listen, based on your little detective work at our door, I'd say your abilities as a scientist are as sharp as ever."

"Trip, the echolocation device allows me to perceive three-dimensional objects but it cannot render anything in a two-plane dimension. If I were on the bridge, I would not be able to see what was happening on the screen or what my instruments were showing. I would be of limited use and could actually be a liability."

"You wouldn't see the instruments but you know what needs to be done better than anyone else. You could have science personnel give you the information."

"Captain Archer needs able-bodied crew members on the bridge."

"I don't know that either of us knows what Archer needs. And I think we can argue about the meaning of able-bodied."

T'Pol looked to where his face was. "It is illogical to deny the truth."

"The truth is that you just nailed me outside the door when I would have pulled the wool over your eyes." He groaned inwardly at the raised eyebrows. "An expression. I'll explain later." Why was it that every other word out of his mouth, of anyone's mouth, had to do with eyes and vision? He knew it was the unconscious expression of what everyone was stressed about around her, but still it was ridiculous.

He went on. "And if you want to bring logic into it, explain to me what's logical in depriving the Enterprise of 80% of your abilities on account of the 20% that may be missing." He cut off with a raised palm before she had a chance to talk. "And no, it's not an accurate percentage. It's a figure of speech."

"It is not possible."

"Tell me why."

"You do not trust me to find my way back to our quarters unaided and yet you would entrust me with a vital command function?" She turned to him. "Do _you_ truly believe I can be on the bridge?"

Trip had to pause. Was she right? He looked at her with a pained expression, unsure what to say.

She let silence settle in the room as an answer to her question. After a few minutes, T'Pol was the one who took hold of his hand. That triggered a maelstrom of emotions which he couldn't sort out fast enough.

"Trip, we need to talk."


	21. Contagion 21 Vulcan Depression

Phlox eyed the disheveled young man on the other side of his desk. Judging from the mussed hair going in all directions, there had been a fair amount of fingers passed in it. "How can I help you, Commander."

"She wants to go back to Vulcan." Trip sounded as shell-shocked as he looked.

Phlox scowled, laced his fingers together in front of him. "She said that?"

"Yes. We were talking about her being back on the bridge, the fact she has scarcely been out of our quarters since Luspypso – hell, if it weren't for the training sessions, she'd never been. I was trying to get her to see she should still be on the bridge, that she could still be useful there. And she told me she wants to go back on Vulcan."

Phlox crossed his hands in front of him. "I see."

Trip looked at him in surprise. "You see? That's good, because I definitely don't."

"Well Commander, shall we start by staring at the facts?"

"Fact is she wants to go back to Vulcan."

Phlox looked appraisingly at the engineer. "And?"

"What d'you mean 'and'? I mean she wants to go to Vulcan. And she didn't say that as in she's going with me."

"Would you go with her, Commander?"

Trip sighed. Looked at his hands. "I'll go wherever she is. It's just, I hadn't really thought of it. I figured we would be on Enterprise for a good long time and then ... I don't know... I guess I never really thought about it. And I'm not sure what I'd do on Vulcan. But that's kind of moot at this point. Actually, that's the whole point, she'd go without me. Says that it's the logical thing to do, that she can't be on the bridge and she shouldn't be on Enterprise anymore."

"And what do you think?" Phlox kept being astonished by how most on the ship managed to have a blind spot where T'Pol's lack of sight was concerned.

"I think there's plenty on the ship that she could do. Hoshi thinks she should be on the bridge, that they need her there to think, even if she can't see. And I agree. Well, I've come to agree." Trip had thought about it since Hoshi had talked to him and he was now convinced. If T'Pol asked him now, he wouldn't go quiet as he had. He had a whole speech prepared to that effect but first he needed some help about the going back to Vulcan thing.

"Good. So, as I said, let's start with the facts." Phlox looked up at Trip but the engineer had said everything he had to say. "Fact is T'Pol is blind. Have you ever wondered how Vulcans handle blindness, Commander?"

Trip looked at Phlox with a blank stare. The doctor sighed inwardly. They were so young, that Human race, boldly forging ahead heedless of any traps they may fall into. At times like these he felt closer to T'Pol, who had an innate understanding of families and clans and interfamilial obligations and relationships, who didn't just throw all of it away to go off on her own.

Except that in a way she had, and with the Human sitting in front of him. He sighed inwardly again. Youth.

"Vulcan, as you know, is a harsh environment, where danger is always lurking, in animal or vegetal- form, and before the Awakening, other Vulcans. To be blind is a rather extreme position of vulnerability, a life sentence as it were. And as I am sure you are aware, Vulcans primeval emotions are rage and paranoia. Unless they meditate, of course." Phlox eye him appraisingly. "I guess you both must have found a way, or she'd be a raving lunatic by now." Trip nodded. He certainly knew about that. "And by the way paranoia is helpful when one is surrounded by a hostile environment and hostile tribes. Yet, blind Vulcans have always survived and thrived, even before the Awakening. Do you know why?"

Trip knew a rhetorical question when he heard one. He wisely kept to himself as Phlox went on.

"Vulcans are touch telepaths as you know. It is a well-known fact, that Vulcan telepathic abilities vary with the individual, with the ability to share feelings at one end of the scale and at the other end, the ability to share thoughts and images. Images, Commander. Do you see what I'm getting at, hmm?"

Trip nodded again, starting to have a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"When a Vulcan is or becomes blind, the extended clan designates one of their highest psi members as that person's _akka_ – roughly translated, it means 'seeing eye'. The clan member accepts to be bound to the blind person in an official ceremony and to spend their lives as the blind man or woman's _akka_."

Trip swallowed hard. "But what about other relationships?"

"Being an _akka_ does not have any impact on either normal life or relationships. Actually, the _akka_ is usually of the same sex as the blind Vulcan, except of course in case of same-sex orientation, so that each of the bound pair can live their life normally. A blind Vulcan accesses the visual field through the _akka_ and will live a life that is hardly differentiated from that of a sight-able person in any respect." Phlox paused.

"But her blindness is temporary."

Phlox had an urge to bang his head against his desk. And then the engineer's head. "We don't know that. Her optic nerve still shows no sign of healing. But let's consider the facts. Whether her blindness is temporary or not, do you agree that the ship is a fairly unsafe environment for someone deprived of sight? If I remember, you yourself had some issues with its safety for children after the events with the Illyrian."

Trip blushed slightly, that was not one of his most cherished memories. The doctor was playing with a paperweight on his desk. "And I realize this may come as a surprise, Commander, but not everyone on Enterprise is as … enthusiastic … as you are about associating with aliens."

"But she's one of the crew." Trip argued.

"There's roughly a hundred people on this ship, Commander, do you think they all think alike?" Trip opened his mouth to speak but Phlox cut him off. "I can assure you they fall along a broad spectrum, like everyone else. Remember Masaro. He may have been an outlier, but then so are you. Have you ever stopped and wondered why it was you that T'Pol engaged with more than any other? Did you ever consider that perhaps it was because you were positively inclined towards her as an alien where others may not have been?"

Trip sat silently, considering. Phlox went on. "In short, T'Pol is in a dangerous environment with people who may be unfriendly. If she were on Vulcan, she would at least have the reassurance of mental projections, where those around her could mentally project that they mean no harm. But she's on a ship of psi-null individuals and the only way for her to tell what they may be thinking is to watch their facial expression."

Trip's eyes widened in realization. "She told me that she couldn't see my features because of the processing time lag. That unless I'm sleeping, it comes out blurry."

It was Phlox's turn to nod. "As technologically advanced as the echolocation device is, it is still very rudimentary in terms of replacing functional eyes. She can't see and the people around her can't project their mental state. That makes her doubly blind, in a way. Have you considered how inherently stressful that is? Do you understand why she would want to go back to Vulcan and find an _akka_? And also remember that T'Pol lost her sight only six weeks ago. She's still adjusting to the new order of things." Phlox had a burst of inspiration, pushed back from his desk. "For that matter, what do you know about paranoia in Vulcans, Commander?"

"Uh… ah…" And he was married to a Vulcan. "It is logical?" Trip finally hazarded. "She doesn't act paranoid" he hastened to add.

Phlox resigned himself to the fact he wouldn't change the Human race in the span of his lifetime. "When Vulcans become paranoid, they shun relationships, repair to their den, curtail their activities and social interactions. In Humans, similar behaviors would evoke a diagnosis of depression. Now, does that remind you of anyone?"

Trip hung his head. All he had been feeling since this started was how foolish and inept and incompetent he was. He could run the finest engines in the world but he couldn't fix things for T'Pol. And now he couldn't even tell she was depressed.

"What about intimacy?" Phlox suddenly asked.

"Intimacy?" Trip thought he must have misheard.

"You heard me right, Commander. What about it?"

Trip chuckled, looking at his hands. "It's not like we've exactly…" He became serious as he realized he didn't really have an answer. "Well, no, but there's been no time… I mean, huh, with her being blind I wasn't sure…"

Phlox was watching with scientific curiosity as the engineer groped around for an explanation. "Let me ask you, Commander, do you always turn the lights off when you have sex?"

"What?! Huh, yes… well, usually." The question had come as a complete surprise.

"So what's the difference?"

What was the difference? Trip stared at Phlox in dumbfounded silence as the realization dawned on him. "So what do I do?"

Phlox looked at the engineer. "Stop treating your wife as if she's made of glass. Losing her sight does not make her more fragile. It makes her environment harder to deal with. Work at making the environment easier for her, rather than focusing on her being blind."

Trip was nodding in bobble-head fashion. Phlox was gauging the impact of what he was saying, aware that he had just provided an engineer with a mechanical genius an outlet for his fixing energies. T'Pol was not the only one who was depressed with the situation.

"And talking of friendly environments, it wouldn't be a bad thing if she were to resume command of the science department. Morale there is quite low on behalf of leaving half their team on Luspypso and the fact they never see their commanding officer anymore. I'm fairly certain productivity is in the doldrums. Now, wouldn't it be logical to assume command of the Science department, hmm, considering that's her command, these people need her, and Enterprise is nowhere near Vulcan to drop her off at this time." Phlox added almost as an afterthought. "The science personnel is devoted to her, they will look out for her." He realized he was starting to enjoy this immensely. He couldn't wait until he saw Trip's face when he went over the last point. The Denobulan cleared his throat. "Now, our next stop is starbase 4 in the Delphi quadrant in about four weeks. And there's something I need from you."

Trip did think the doctor's wide grin was bizarre but he waited to see what Phlox had in mind.

xx

Like many good ideas, this one came in the shower, as Trip was wiping shampoo from his eyes, trying to figure out how he was going to talk to T'Pol about the Science department, how he needed to change his behavior, his mind no longer focused on her as being the fault line. He couldn't be an _akka_ , no matter how much he'd want to. He was psi null and it was already a minor miracle that he found his way to the white space once in a while.

The inspiration struck him like a slap across the face. As an engineer, he was well-placed to know that for every positive there was a negative. It would be flipping the concept on its head, but after all what was an _akka_ really about except a life companion. He hurriedly dressed, rushed out to engineering. Hess would understand what he wanted to do, confirm it wasn't going to blow up anything anywhere.

"You think that's possible?"

Hess looked at her commanding officer wordlessly. She knew better than to ask Trip if he had become daft. He was very relaxed with hierarchy but there was a line one did not cross.

"Of course it's possible." Hannah shrugged. Everything was possible on paper. But that didn't mean everything should be attempted or done. Why he would want to do that didn't make any sense. She knew T'Pol had gone blind, but still...

But he was the boss. And his little programming routine would not endanger anyone or anything else on the ship. If he wanted it done, who was she to stand in his way. "You'll have it this afternoon. I'll give you the command codes."

xx

T'Pol could feel Trip was coiled like a tight spring waiting for release. She was catching up on scientific journals, the listening bud in her ear deciphering the pages as she came to them. It went slower than she would have liked but at least it gave her access to the contents. More than she could say about her mate, she couldn't tell what he was thinking while she was blocking the bond, as she had been since her return from Luspypso.

Trip had not said anything more about their conversation but she knew it was on his mind. In time he would realize this was the logical thing to do, giving her something akin to a normal life and allowing him to maintain a high level of contribution. Eventually, once he had become used to the separation and when it was obvious there were no other alternatives, she would request a severance of the bond. There was scant literature on the effect on the Vulcan partner, the event was such a rarity, but she could read between the lines that if she survived it would be painful.

There was also the possibility, still present, that the nerve damage would heal. Phlox had predicted five years as the outlying period, the wink of an eye in Vulcan longevity, a much higher percentage of a Human life. It would not be logical for him to compromise such a high percentage of his life on grounds of a disabled partner. She would see to it that he understood that.

The object of her thoughts was carefully acting as if there was nothing occupying his mind, which confirmed her deduction that the opposite was true. She did not ask him outright. They had been holding each other at arm's length, her blocking the bond and him unwilling to press her on it. She surmised he was not keen on her finding out exactly what his thoughts and feelings were.

So she did what she had become quite adept at doing over the past few weeks. She waited. When they retired for the night, Trip had still not opened up about what was on his mind.

She unwrapped the echolocation device, wincing slightly as the chirping sensor rubbed against raw nerve endings. The prosthesis was not adapted to her physiology and it painfully pinched against the ear canal and the outer ear. But as painful as it may be, the device took her from darkness to light and taking it off each day led to a renewed sense of loss when the world disappeared in a night so complete it swallowed even her sense of self.

She felt Trip lay down next to her, waited for him to go through his short but effective pre-sleep routine. Instead, she heard him call "Computer, run Black Pitch."

"Confirmed. Program completed." The room computer responded.

"What are you doing?" T'Pol sensed that something was different in the way Trip's respiration had suddenly accelerated, and she could smell his stress pheromones.

"I worked on a sub-routine that shuts down all electricity to our quarters, except for life support. It also shutters the windows. You can't see it but the room is completely dark. Hell, I can't even see myself. Or you."

"Are you conducting an experiment?" A Human would have said 'why did you do that', possibly with a few choice additional expletives. A Vulcan would never do something so outlandish without a logical anchor, and the only one that made sense was that he was running an experiment on the impact of sightlessness on Human physiology.

"An experiment? No." Trip chuckled softly. Only a Vulcan would look at a gesture of love as an experiment. He turned to his side, unable to see her but hearing the soft rhythm of her breath. "I just wanted to get back to us, just you and me, the way we were. Without all that seeing or not seeing stuff."

"So since it is impossible for me to see you changed the paradigm so that it is you that cannot see."

Trip smiled in the dark. He loved intelligent women and she took the cake when it came to brains. "I thought perhaps it would enable us to be together again the way we used to. It's not just you not seeing, it's the two of us."

He could tell by the sounds that T'Pol had moved but he wasn't sure if she had turned towards him or away from him until he felt the gentle weight of her hand on his face, feeling his features. The bond was still closed but then again he was not ready either to let her have full access to his thoughts. Especially now.

"Is your effort driven by your desire for sexual gratification?" Of all the things to pick up on…

"That's not what it's about, darling. It's not about having or not having sex. That's the least important thing right now. I just wanted to be together with you. I can't be an _akka_ and share my eyesight with you but I thought perhaps if I share your blindness, you won't be so alone."

Trip waited, wondering how she was going to react, what she was going to do.

Suddenly her mouth was on his, crushing it in a fevered embrace. A rush swept over him from head to toe and he returned the kiss with the fervor of several weeks' abstinence. The physical sensations triggered a symphony of sounds and colors in his mind. He groped around, trying to locate various body parts by touch alone. She had an edge over him in that regard and her aim was uniformly more precise. Soon the room disappeared in a kaleidoscope of delicious sensations that shrunk into a pinpoint of pleasure before erupting into a fireball that illuminated every corner of his mind. He came back to on his back, breathing hard, spent and relieved.

Absolute darkness blanketed them. He laid a hand on her flank, feeling the fast breath of their exertion.

"Want to try again? Practice makes perfect."

"The concept of trying again implies a previous unsuccessful consummation. I am not sure that what we did technically qualifies."

Trip laughed out softly. "Think of it as track jumping. You just keep trying to do better with each attempt."

This time his hand was surer in cupping her breast, he was focused on using his fingers as a sixth sense, letting them read her all over as if he were the cartographer and she his map to an ancient treasure.

xx

 _To all: The story has taken a life of its own. There are already at least two more chapters in the work, hope you enjoy the journey, as meandering as it may be. I'm having a good time._

 _To Ken and LoyaltyLieMe: As usual, thanks for the great ideas. Ken, you came so close, so close, but you'll see the actual path is slightly different. It's always great to see how many variations there could be in a story. Hope you like this alternative._


	22. Contagion 22 The Fragility Controversy

Trip got up, swearing under his breath. He had forgotten to ask Hess for the codes to bring the lights back on. As he gingerly felt his way around, he recognized the metallic edge of the desk, and on it, the coils of the echolocation device. He had seen T'Pol don it enough times that he knew how to do it. That gave him an idea. He awkwardly wrapped it around his ear and turned it on.

"What the hell?!" He snapped it off and slung it back on the desk, almost ripping his ear off in the process. The device skittered on the desk. A red hot wave of anger at the thought that he might have broken the device came through the bond at the exact same time he blindly reached out it, worried it might fall.

"Trip, what is happening?" T'Pol's calm tone belied the turmoil in the bond. She hadn't fully reopened it but she didn't clamp down so hard on all feelings anymore. He felt it was a fair trade, as he wasn't keen on her knowing every last one of his thoughts, especially around her blindness. Perhaps eventually, once they had mastered the situation, it would be okay to explore the kaleidoscope of emotions. On both sides.

"It's ok, I've got it." He called just before his fingers closed in on the device. He breathed a silent note of thanks to the gods of the clumsy that it was still in one piece. "It's not broken. I'm sorry, It took me by surprise." He had a blinding pain around his temples. "But what was that?!"

"I do not understand."

"The echolocation device." He turned to where the sound of her voice came from. "Is it always that painful?"

"It is uncomfortable, especially at first, but one gets used to it."

 _Uncomfortable, my ass_... A stubbed toe would be less uncomfortable.

"Let me get some light in here." Now that he knew where the desk was, he managed to find the wall, though it was slow and laborious progress, and then, with slightly more assurance, the doors. He palmed the doors open, the light from the hallway illuminating the inside of their room and allowing him to find the intercom. And if someone walked by and happened to see him in his birthday suit, he hoped they had better things to look at. "Trip to Engineering."

"Taylor here, sir." If Taylor was there, Hess was off duty. He just hoped she had been as maniacal as ever about logging her work. "Taylor, Hannah was working on a program routine for me earlier today, she would have logged it in the central database. Can you see if she saved the codes in there?"

Trip waited in the dark for a couple of minutes and then Taylor was back on. "Got them, sir. The code at the beginning of the program is Black Pitch,"

"Yeah, I got that. And the one at the end?"

"Let There Be Light."

"Let There Be Light?" As he said it, the shutters came down, the lights came back on, and the room was flooded with high-intensity lighting while Beethoven's 'Ode to Joy' rang out on the speakers.

"Thanks, Trip out." Hannah's sense of humor. "Computer, stop music, lower light intensity," Trip called out to the room and the glare died down to something that didn't blind him while the music stopped. He turned to T'Pol. "I'll fix the program."

"I take it the lights are back?" Trip thought he heard a twinge of wistfulness in her voice. It was true, he was back to the world of light and she was back to being alone in the night.

"Yes." He picked up the echolocation device, walked over and wrapped her fingers around it. "Come, it's time to rise and shine." He hadn't seen her get up at anywhere near a normal hour for some time, since... "We're having breakfast in the mess hall, not in this room. Together. We can wash up when we come back." He projected that he would not accept any other answer than yes. As he did so, he realized that the day before only, he would have tentatively checked with her about where she wanted to eat, offering to bring food to her. Phlox was right, he had been treating her differently.

He sensed surprise through the bond, then reluctance. "Trip-"

He cut her off before she started. "You and I are going to have breakfast normally, like we used to do before this whole thing. You have the echolocation device, you can see what you're eating and I can help you with everything else."

The sense of reluctance became a sense of vulnerability. He remembered what Phlox had said. "I'll watch your back."

"You'll watch my back?"

He had to laugh. "Not in the sense you think, though I'm definitely not adverse to the view." Of course he had told her about Malcom's fascination with that side of her because, hey, what were friends for? "It's an expression, means I'll make sure you're safe from anything or anyone that'd hurt you." He could see she was going to try and draw out an explanation. "Come on, get dressed." He had a sudden inspiration. "It's not logical to hide in your room when there's no danger."

"I am not hiding." The huffed tone spoke loud and clear to her opinion of that statement.

 _No, and you're not running away to Vulcan_. But Trip bit down on that retort. "Good, if you're not hiding, then let's go."

He watched her like a hawk as she donned the echolocation device, pounced when he saw the slight narrowing of the eyes that indicated it was painful. And that was before she had even turned the thing on. "Here, let me see," perhaps there was something wrong with the device.

But she wouldn't hand it to him. "It's fine," she replied, turning away from him.

He simply stepped over and was back in front of her. "It's not fine if it hurts." He suddenly realized how apprehensive she was at the thought of being deprived from the device, even momentarily. "I'm not going to do anything to it, I just want to check. And I promise I'm going to be careful with it." It was her 'eyes' he was talking about after all. Iif anything happened to the device, she would find herself in pitch darkness without a way out. Perhaps they should be busy replicating it. Even if... He didn't want her to know and suppressed the thought.

She reluctantly handed over the device, allowing Trip to measure it against her ear. He gasped as he saw how raw the contact points looked. "Does Phlox know about this?"

"I haven't had the opportunity to tell him yet. We've been working on adjusting the accuracy and speed." Trip had a good idea that she hadn't wanted to say anything that could have resulted in being deprived of the adaptive device, even for a short while. He was turning it over, looking at the anchoring mechanism. "This thing is way too big, that's why it's not sitting right. They must have a one-size fits all." 'All' obviously not being petite Vulcans. Trip thought back to the earholes of the Iustreans. Of course, they would need a device that anchored in, but that was too long and large for a Human or Vulcan. "Hold on, let me take some measurements."

"Trip -" The tone was long-suffering.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna take it away. But there's got to be a way to adjust it. I'll figure something." He carefully put it back in her hands, let her put it on. However much it chafed, it gave her a claim at a normal life.

Five weeks she'd had it, and he'd never thought of checking how it worked, for her or for himself. He shook his head in self-reprobation. What exactly had come over him that he had been acting so out of character? Well, no more. And come hail or high water they would be talking about the Science Department over breakfast.

xx

"You have to do something." Phlox smiled at Archer, wondering if he would ever be able to eat in the mess hall again without someone coming to him for help. There were days when he felt as if he were the effective replacement for the XO duties that had to do with the smooth functioning of the ship as an organic entity. He couldn't stop being impressed by how much of that smooth functioning had been directly thanks to T'Pol.

He decided to proceed cautiously. "What do I need to do something about?" He was getting up as he said it, having a sense that the rest of the conversation would require a measure of privacy.

Archer looked around, making sure he couldn't be heard. "You've got to get T'Pol back to the bridge."

"And how do you suggest I do that, Captain?" They were now safely in the corridor, walking to Sickbay. "I believe she has expressed a wish to go back to Vulcan."

"That's not the first time. She's always ready to run away when things get tough. But she can't. I need her on the bridge and I won't let her." Archer did not hide his annoyance.

"T'Pol may no longer be on sick leave, but she does not believe that she can safely and efficiently serve on the bridge." Phlox knew Archer could be petulant but he was still slightly taken aback by the response.

Archer exhaled noisily. "That's bullshit. You know it as well as I do. You have to find a way to get through to her."

Phlox briskly turned around, so that the two men were practically standing chest to chest. "I have to find a way to get through to her? Have you thought about simply asking her, Captain?"

The question took Archer completely by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Have you thought about asking her? Just talking to her and asking her. Like you would do if she could still see."

Archer had been thrown for a curve. "Uh, no … well I thought… you'd be the one to tell me."

"And considering I have never been posted on the bridge, how exactly am I supposed to know if she has the capacity to serve on the bridge, hmm?" Phlox was rolling on the balls of his feet, gaining height with each traction. And he just kept going. "What makes you think that because T'Pol has lost the ability to see she has also lost the ability to think or to answer a question? Perhaps you're the one who believes she can no longer safely and efficiently serve on the bridge. I suggest you consider this questions in depth and at length before you ask her."

They were at the doors to Sickbay. Phlox stopped there, counting on the sudden cessation of forward motion to signal to Archer that it was time to go. Which is what happened, though in Phlox's eyes the captain lingered quite a few seconds longer than he was welcome to.

xx

Hoshi looked mournfully at the corner table. Forget speaking to her, she couldn't even approach T'Pol anymore. Every chair was occupied with science crew members engaged in a serious but animated discussion with their commanding officer. Probably another experience turned learning opportunity that they were debriefing and analyzing. Since T'Pol had gone back to duty in the science labs, Hoshi held it from good source that she had politely but determinedly turned the captain down, she was never alone anymore, the science geeks always lined up around her like so many ducklings. They even walked her to her quarters, all the while talking about whatever harebrained research they were working on. She knew from Trip that more often than not there would be a couple of them waiting for her outside their quarters in the morning, hoping for an additional few minutes of private time to discuss their project as they escorted her to the science labs.

Hoshi turned around and saw Malcolm was seated at a table diagonally across from the group, which gave him the best angle to observe the gaggle of crewmen and women. One would think, and rightly so, that with so many people around her at all times T'Pol would be safe from harm but no, her boyfriend had to get it into his head that she may be at risk from anyone on Enterprise.

To be fair, when Trip had taken the two of them into the confidence of his conversation with Phlox, Malcolm felt it was a personal affront that there may be others like Masaro aboard Enterprise. He had made it a point of honor to ferret out any potential threats, keeping a constant, if covert, watch on everyone around T'Pol. Hoshi had pointed out that the science geeks were pretty uniformly low risk, most of them being too caught up in the sciences of the mind to become swayed by other considerations but Reed refused to give them a free pass, pointing out that nerds may be less fluent when it came to handling emotions and that it would not be the first time that some strong emotion would push an otherwise gentle person into a nefarious path of action.

So Hoshi had wisely decided to leave Malcolm to his own paranoia, he didn't have much else to occupy his mind anyway while they warped to Starbase 4 and she enjoyed watching him spin his wheels, however sick that may be.

She went and sat next to Malcolm, making sure to take a seat that wouldn't hamper his view of the science team table, mentally rolling her eyes as she did so, she couldn't believe he had her trained.

"I think you might be a tad overzealous." That was a different way of pointing out the science geeks were harmless.

Malcolm replied without diminishing his vigilance. "It's always the quiet ones. You have to look for the ones who could be getting upset without anybody realizing they are. Look at Mahdin."

She looked around the room, catching without seeming to a discrete glimpse of the science crewman standing at T'Pol's left, and went back to her plate.

"What about him?"

"He's been standing there the whole time while she talks to those around the table and I can tell he's getting more and more frustrated because she's not talking to him." He looked at Hoshi. "Now, depending on his personality, he could see it as her specifically ignoring him and from there diverge into all kinds of imagined wrongs. That everyone disrespects him because of his sex, his religion, his hairstyle, whatever. It would be only another small step for before he decides to take revenge on her or the group."

Hoshi watched Malcolm silently, thinking about paranoid and suspicious personalities. Unaware of the attention, he went on. "And you know the kicker?"

"Tell me." She made her tone as wry as she could, hoping perhaps he'd take the hint.

"The dumbass doesn't realize she has no peripheral vision with the echolocation device. She simply doesn't see him." At that Hoshi looked sharply at the other table, smothered a laugh. It was true, Mahdin was standing where he could not be seen. Right then the man moved a few degrees to the left, almost as if he'd heard them. T'Pol saw him and indicated by a nod that she would be addressing him next.

"Crisis averted." Hoshi whispered at Malcolm.

He grumpily replied. "This time, but I'm keeping an eye on him."

The science table had been done with their meals for a while already. T'Pol got up, indicating it was time to return to their posts, and the science team rose up as one, careful to step out of her way. She walked to the door and Hoshi wondered if she was aware her team had positioned themselves almost as an honor guard, surreptitiously marking the path to the door.

As she walked by their table, T'Pol stopped and turned her head so that the echolocation device could perceive them. She nodded in greeting. Hoshi nodded back, then held herself perfectly immobile so the device had a chance to render her facial expression. T'Pol gave the slightest nod in acknowledgement once she had perceived Hoshi's smile and left the room with her team.

xx

Hoshi stood at the door, feeling incredibly self-conscious. But she had decided that since she couldn't catch a glimpse of T'Pol around the ship she would take matters into her own hands and force an encounter.

Truth be told, she missed having the Vulcan around, missed the easy conversations that arose between Archer and T'Pol and often brought her into their midst as she was the midway point between the two of them, missed the brilliance that could be detected in the slightest remark. She also missed having another woman officer on the bridge, even if T'Pol was an alien, as she could imagine she shared the same feelings at some of the male antics around. Perhaps it was pure projection on her part but at least she could project onto T'Pol, whereas it was difficult to project those feelings onto a male. And she missed Trip, who rarely showed up on the bridge anymore, spending his days and evenings in engineering instead.

"Come in!" Trip called from inside the room. The door opened but T'Pol was already standing there, ready to go out. Her gaze rested somewhere around Hoshi's face but off-target, the echolocation device nested in a soft case around her ear, looking a lot more comfortable now that Trip had devised a better support.

She held her smile for ten seconds, time enough for the device to read her features, feeling vaguely ridiculous as she did so. "Thanks for coming with me."

"No thanks are necessary. Exercise is necessary to maintaining optimal mental and physical health."

Hoshi felt a jolt of pure happiness at hearing the very Vulcan brush-off. As much as it drove her crazy, she had also missed that.

An hour or so later, she was kicking herself for missing that. She was definitely no longer missing it. Definitely.

She buried her face in the exercise towel so that her ragged breaths would not sound quite as loud as they did and earn her another comment from T'Pol, caustic for being oh-so-blunt-and-to-the-point. Damn Vulcans. What had come over her to invite her to a joint training session in the first place? She was close to passing out from the exertion whereas T'Pol looked like she had just come back from a moderately brisk walk.

"I may have gone too fast." She gulped between great big breaths of air.

"It is illogical to exert oneself to the brink of exhaustion."

Hoshi shot T'Pol a furious glance, realized that was wasted on the echolocation device, angrily threw the towel back on the equipment. "I'll be fine, don't you worry about me."

"Vulcans do not worry."

 _No shit, Sherlock._ Hoshi turned her back on the Vulcan and proceeded to wipe down the equipment, chewing on her thoughts. She heard T'Pol move and kept at what she was doing, stubbornly refusing to look up. If the woman could run her into the ground, she could take care of herself just fine. As the minutes ticked by, she started calming down. It was her fault, as well. Did she really think T'Pol would slow down just because she was wearing an adaptive device? Her legs were working just fine. Obviously she needed to readjust her thinking. Finally over her fit of anger, she turned around, wanting to invite T'Pol for a cup of tea.

Except she was alone in the training room.

Hoshi tensed up, wondering if perhaps T'Pol had just proceeded back to her quarters alone. But she couldn't remember hearing the doors to the training room open.

Malcolm's admonitions came back to mind and she felt a lump in her throat. Forget anybody having evil intentions, he was going too far with that, but the ship was a constellation of accidents waiting to happen. The echolocation device could not capture the very broad range of vision of the Human – or Vulcan – eye and had zero depth perception. T'Pol could step out over a staircase without knowing it and there were unguarded staircase accesses all over.

Hoshi looked around, trying to imagine what she would see with the echolocation device until she noted the door jutting out in the corner. That would lead to the first floor of the cavernous sports center. With equipment laying all around, not the best place to be unless you could see where you were stepping. She rushed through and felt a wave of relief upon seeing T'Pol on one of the benches, following the MACOs training session. As her heart came back to its normal rhythm, it dawned on her that Malcolm was right in ways he didn't fathom.

The true danger to T'Pol was the Human ability to get so angry so quickly.

The enemy was within each one of them.


	23. Contagion 23 The Reluctant Consultant

Reed was keeping an unobtrusive eye on Mahdin, the crewman from the Science Department that was occupying T'Pol's place on the bridge. He didn't understand why she couldn't be on the bridge herself, he would feel much safer with her there, keeping an eye on their progress and making things both interesting and aesthetically pleasing. He got the not-seeing thing and all, but no matter how good or brilliant her people were they just couldn't fill her shoes.

Especially Mahdin, the one who was most often appointed to the bridge rotation these days. He may be the most senior among her team now that Adigo and the others had left but that didn't give him the character traits that the job required. He had been observing him for days now, nothing else to do until they got to Starbase 4, and he had seen sides of the man that T'Pol may be blind to… he winced at how the meaning of that word had changed since Luspypso. She either didn't see them, and with the echolocation device chances were that she actually didn't perceive them, or they resembled normal Vulcan character traits and she didn't realize they may spell trouble when it came to Humans.

Take Mahdin's delayed contributions to any group conversation for example, she could be reading clinical analysis in it when all he saw was morbid lack of self-confidence. Like if the man were Vulcan his seeming lack of attachments to the rest of the Science team would be normal reserve but as a Human on a not-so-large ship it smacked of sociopathic tendencies. He had seen Mahdin close to stomping his feet on one occasion when he was frustrated, then catch himself and look around guiltily.

Low self-confidence, attachment issues, and potentially erratic self-control. He made a note to ask Phlox for a possible diagnosis. In the meantime, this was not even close to the character traits required to be on the bridge. He was going to be keeping a very close watch on the man indeed.

Hoshi had swiveled her chair so that she was facing the captain and was directly in his line of sight. He smiled at her. Archer could see her and she couldn't smile back but he knew she shared his misgivings about the science replacements in general and Mahdin in particular. The poor guy didn't know it but he was as close to being an entomology specimen as he would ever want to get.

xx

The change in the pitch of the engines hum told her that Enterprise was dropping out of warp. T'Pol was in her personal science laboratory, reviewing research protocols from one of her team members and she had mentally collected a detailed and precise answer. Recording it would take a certain amount of time as she had to wait for the technology to catch up and stop for periodic replays to make sure the software was keeping all the parts in the desired order.

She looked up from her work, wondering what had caused the ship to stop in the middle of their journey to Starbase 4. It could only be an unexpected event, perhaps they had encountered a new and unknown planet or some other phenomenon that had captivated Archer. He had insisted that there be an audio feed from the bridge to her lab and Hoshi had just opened it so she could hear what was going on the bridge.

"Crewman Mahdin, what do you make of this?" Archer's tone was not pleased. T'Pol was too far from the intercom to chime in and in any case she did not have all the data necessary to draw a conclusion.

The silence lasted longer than the few seconds that was acceptable and T'Pol frowned. Even accounting for his lack of experience and the slower Human processing speed, Crewman Mahdin should have provided the Captain with an answer 12.3 seconds ago … 13.3 seconds ago… she kept mentally counting and reached the unimpressive number of 33.2 seconds before Mahdin's voice came over the feed.

"There are abnormal readings from the external pulsar array. It could be a gravitational wave passing through."

"What about the luminescence?" That was Hoshi.

Again, there was silence from the science station. Abnormal pulsar readings, gravitational wave, luminescence… all of a sudden T'Pol knew what was coming. She needed to alert the bridge right away, tell them to change course or at least orientation. Travis was an excellent pilot, if he were warned he would know how to adjust.

She tried to rush to the intercom but all the echolocation device was giving her was a dense gray fog. It couldn't differentiate the flat plane of the intercom from the wall. Time was of the essence. The device could at least tell the door to the science lab, recessed as it was from the wall. The intercom would be on the right, five feet and four inches up from the floor, three inches inside. She rushed there, feeling around as quickly as she could. She caught the edge of the intercom, grasped for the switch –-

— and the ship shook as a massive wave propelled it sideways and upside down. The gravity plating failed at the exact same time, preventing massive injuries. T'Pol found herself floating in space along with all the unmoored objects in the lab, which she could not see but could imagine. She had no idea if she were upside down, things were spinning too rapidly for the echolocation device to render a precise image.

When Engineering brought the plating back online, there would be no gentle transition back and everything would plummet to the ground. She was both powerless and cornered. She tried to stay in a somewhat balanced position and relax her muscles, stiff with the anxiety of not being able to see where she was.

The return of gravity, the fall, and the pain merged into a second of agony. Before she could fully realize what had happened she was in a ball on the floor, trying to regain control of her nerve centers and push the pain away. She must have screamed because she heard the swish of the doors opening then the rush of steps to her side.

"Are you okay?" It was Danambe, a first-year crew member, one of those that already showed a lot of promise and would probably be promoted away in a couple of years.

"I am fine." She was aware the tense was wrong, the pronouncement should have been 'I will be fine'. But it was true that the pain was already receding.

"You are bleeding, you need to go to Sickbay." Danambe did not needlessly emote. His declaration was factual and neutral.

She did not feel any loss of blood and she knew the bleeding must be secondary to the fall, not symptomatic of a worse injury but she didn't disagree. The pain now had the pulsating quality of a minor injury but she was hampered by her lack of visual ability to determine how extensive it was.

Danambe presented a hand and she grabbed it after carefully shoring up her mental shields. She found that she was limping and he simply said "I'll go with you."

The doors swished again and Gratton walked in. T'Pol turned to Danambe, intent on getting away before her entire department crowded the lab. She had heard the crystalline echo of multiple objects breaking and the lab could not be a safe place to walk in. "I can find my way to Sickbay, you do not need to come."

"I'm sorry, Commander, regulations demand that a bleeding crew member must not be sent to Sickbay on their own."

She knew that the administrators who had written the regulation had intended that it would apply in serious situations, far removed from her current plight. But unfortunately, in a typically imprecise human way, that I was not how they had drafted it.

Danambe had never been on the receiving end of an eyebrow before and he found the experience disconcerting and anxiety-provoking. He blushed, feeling himself swallow hard. "I'm sorry."

"No apologies necessary, crewman, you are correct. Regulations are meant to be followed." Danambe knew better than to touch the Commander and he adjusted his step on hers. By the time they reached Sickbay, she was almost walking normally, though without her usual fluidity.

xx

"Commander!" Taylor bellowed.

Trip had his hands full trying to deal with several fires at once in Engineering, unfortunately not all of them figuratively, and he just couldn't spare time for one more demand, one more request, one more 'that system went bad'. Whatever they had encountered in that space had thrown Enterprise for a loop, that was obvious. They had no engines, system failures and fires all over the place, he wasn't even sure if he could get the engines back on line.

"I'm busy, go ask Hess!" He yelled back.

"It's about Commander T'Pol, sir."

That stopped him dead in his tracks, his hierarchy of issues suddenly reorganized with her at the top. He found his way to the wall intercom in two steps. "What's going on?!"

"Danambe here, sir. I walked Commander T'Pol's to Sickbay, sir, I thought you'd want to know. Nothing too bad, I think."

"Thanks, yes, thank you. Tucker out." He stood where he was, staring at the intercom, thinking furiously. Hess stopped by his elbow and he looked at her without seeing her.

"I can take care of things here" she told him "Everything is close to being back online, after that it's just diagnostics and stuff. Not like we haven't done it a thousand times. We're not going anywhere anytime soon."

Trip blinked. He could go to Sickbay, he wanted to go to Sickbay. He remembered what Phlox had told him, about treating his wife as if she were made of glass. Would he have dropped everything and gone to Sickbay if she could still see? Being blind didn't make her more fragile.

His decision made, he turned to Hess. "No, that's fine. I'll check on her when we're done here" He went back to where he had been on the floor, overseeing the first emergency repairs.

Hess watched him walk away with a degree of sorrow. She certainly could understand that having a disabled spouse was a lot of work, better men would cave at the burden. But she had hoped he would be different, would stick it out. She chided herself for being such a romantic. Real life wasn't like that.

xx

Trip hurried to Sickbay, still smelling of electrolytes and fumes and dozens of engineers sweating it out. At least the gravity plating was no longer running off the emergency back-up system. As for the engines… The two weeks left to reach Starbase 4 had just become four, at least. If they fixed the engines. Another four weeks. Not like that gave him more time for his pet project, everyone would be spending double shifts trying to coax the warp core back on.

Sickbay was full, as could be expected. Fortunately, the gravity plating had cut off right when the ship was thrown. It was all bumps and sprains and broken bones and concussions, nobody had died.

He advanced hesitantly, unsure of which biobed T'Pol was on, when he suddenly felt a compulsion to go to the second privacy booth on the right and knew that's where she was. He slipped through the curtains, nodding at Phlox as he was adjusting a bandage around her waist.

"How are you?" The question was addressed at her but it was Phlox that looked up with a broad smile.

"Ah, Commander! I was waiting for you. Come on in, come on in. Nothing serious, just the corner of the desk interrupting her fall." He turned back to T'Pol. "You should lay down for the rest of the day, you're going to be stiff enough in the morning. I'll give you a couple of hypos if the pain gets to be too much."

"Thank you Doctor." She turned to Trip and he saw she still had the echolocation device on. He carefully schooled his features into as much stillness as he could muster, though a grin kept trying to break through.

An eyebrow lifted. "I am fine." A wave of warmth accompanied the words through the bond, giving them depth and meaning.

Trip started grinning like an idiot. He knew the warmth was for the fact he had not rushed to Sickbay right away but had afforded her the dignity of facing things on her own. He had finally acted like before Luspypso, when they were both independent adults during the day who came together at night.

And he realized that in letting her stand on her own he had regained a partner.

xx

"Commander" Archer hid his surprise at finding T'Pol at the door of his ready room. Since he had asked her to come back to the bridge, and she had politely and resolutely declined, he hadn't had much to do with her. He felt slightly embarrassed as he realized that he had also cut back on the dinner invitations, an act that he now saw as childish and unworthy. He tried to make up for it by the warmth of his welcome.

"What can I do for you?" He had already pretty much decided he would do whatever she asked for.

She explained very clearly and precisely what he was going to do and Archer found himself nodding repeatedly with an idiot grin on his face. She could have asked him to show up for duty for a month in his underwear, it wouldn't have mattered.

After she left, he let out a whoop of pure elation, not caring if she heard it in the corridor, turned and looked at the door with a raised eyebrow, as he fully imagined she did. Things were starting to look up. Enterprise was still a sitting duck, unable to achieve warp and her engines in sore shape, but things were finally looking up.

xx

"Commander, I have a maintenance and supply order from the bridge. But it can't be right." Trip turned to the crewman, grabbed the padd that was preferred to him, quickly going through the schematics. "Hey, Hess!" He screamed over the noise of the repairs. "Check this out! Wha'd'ya think?"

She looked at the work order, rolled her eyes "Looks like the guys on the bridge need their heads checked."

"It just doesn't make sense." Trip agreed, brow furrowed. "Why would they need a chair there, it's not even close to a console."

Hess looked at him with her air of 'the higher ups are all crazy anyway' and he knew he would get nothing more from her. In situations of unknown, the best bet was the source of all gossip. Trip reached for the intercom. "Trip to Hoshi."

"Bridge here." That was the code for 'the Captain is on the bridge'. He needed to make it quick and to the point. "We got some plans here for a new install but it doesn't make sense. The chair will be too far away from the console."

"Ah yes, the chair. I asked already and I was told it's right. Perhaps they're going to move the consoles?"

"Moving the consoles? Does anyone up there understand what kind of huge undertaking that's going to be?! We're in the middle of trying to fix the engines, if they need reminding!"

"I'm sure Captain Archer will agree to wait until after the repairs are done for the consoles. So long as the chair is there."

"Do you—!"

"Trip I have to go" Hoshi whispered and cut off the communication. She turned to look at Archer with a smile. Everyone in Engineering would be arguing the consoles move while they installed he chair.

xx

Trip opened the door, half expecting to fall nose to nose with the two or three science crewmen who would be waiting for T'Pol so they could get an advance discussion on their projects before anybody else got a hold of her.

But the hallway was empty.

He looked to the right and to the left in expectant interrogation but the hallways remained steadfastly empty. No running steps from someone late to the action, nothing. He closed the door and almost bumped into T'Pol, ready to go out. "Are you going to the bridge?" She asked.

"Yes, actually today I am. I need to check the new install we did. But Archer has another thing coming if he thinks we can move the console."

"I'll go with you."

Trip looked at her in amazement. Did she really say that? She hadn't set foot on the bridge since Luspypso. He rationalized that Archer must have commandeered her presence.

"Sure." Trip smiled, it brought back good memories.

When they exited the turbo lift, Jon turned to them with a smile that would have dwarfed a small sun. Trip looked at the lone stool standing incongruously at an angle from the rest of the bridge, checked that the install was complete and walked to his station, wondering why Hoshi and Reed were looking at him with a smile. Granted he hadn't spent much time on the bridge lately but it wasn't as if were never there. If they thought this was going to be fun they should wait until he started going at it with Archer about the console.

Archer was still talking to T'Pol. Trip wondered what he might be saying but he knew that she'd be back on her way to her science lab soon enough.

That was when Archer turned to the bridge with a smile "Everyone, I would like to introduce you to our new Science Consultant on the bridge, otherwise known as my Executive Officer and Trip's wife." Archer was still smiling. "I have a feeling we will see more of our Chief Engineer from now on."

Trip stared in open-mouthed surprise at Archer while his peripheral vision picked up the broad grins on Reed and Hoshi. And realized they had all been on it.

T'Pol nodded and went to sit on the stool. Trip looked in her direction and was rewarded with a double eyebrow flourish. He just stood there with a huge grin of his own, shaking his head.

Everyone was smiling, relaxed and relieved. That was when people let their guards down. Reed had his sights set on Mahdin even if the science officer could not see him as easily. As the bridge filled up with the gentle sounds of uplifted moods and conversations, one person was not smiling. No, not smiling at all. Mahdin looked quite flushed, actually. Reed couldn't decipher the quick glance he threw T'Pol, it was too quick and sneaky, but he knew friendly when he saw it and that had not been friendly.

At least T'Pol was within his protective reach while she was on the Bridge. Malcolm went back to his console. He needed to build a schedule for when she was not.


	24. Contagion 24 Yes But How Do You Love Me?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Trip was trying to sound nonchalant about it, but now that the elation of having T'Pol back on the bridge had subsided he felt somewhat put upon that she hadn't said a word to him about it.

"Captain Archer asked me not to talk to you about it. That was part of our arrangement."

He smirked. _Their arrangement_ … "And what was your arrangement exactly?" Subtle emphasis on the 'your'.

"I let Captain Archer know that I was willing to come back to the bridge in an observatory, not operational, capacity so long as I was not posted at the science station and I was allowed hourly rest periods."

"Hourly rest periods, huh?" Trip glared at her. Now finally she was admitting to how ' _uncomfortable_ ' the echolocation device really was. He couldn't wait until they got to Starbase 4, hoping everything worked out. He'd have to check with Phlox.

Even if she could have perceived the glare she would have ignored it, responding instead to the underlying question. "I can spend the time listening to research reports and will be more readily available in case of future unforeseen developments."

"Yeah, well, we all wish you'd been there when we encountered the gravitational wave" he commented wistfully. It would take him days to recalibrate the engines for warp speed.

"I regret I was not able to warn Captain Archer in time. I should have realized Crewman Mahdin did not have the background in astrophysics that would have enabled him to deduce the upcoming gravitational wave from the pulsar readings alone."

Was she excusing Mahdin? The guy deserved to be jettisoned. "Yet you're keeping him on the bridge. That's kind of rewarding him, don't you think."

"I am not sure that Crewman Mahdin perceives my presence on the bridge as a Science Consultant as a reward."

Trip snorted. No, she was right, Mahdin must be feeling pretty lousy about it. He didn't like the man, there was something off about him. An arrogance that he didn't have any reason for. Actually, this was possibly worse for Mahdin than if she had allowed him to slink back into the bowels of the Science section to work on his own projects, forgotten and cursed. He would be confronted with his failure on a daily basis.

Trip eyed T'Pol quizzically. Payback didn't seem to be something Vulcans engaged in. Did they? _Talking about payback_ "How's your side?" The steel corner of the desk had left quite a gash.

"It is almost healed." He knew this was not quite true _…Their arrangement_ , _almost healed_ , _uncomfortable_ … yep, he wasn't only feeling like he was being kept at arm's length, he _was_ being kept at arm's length. Just like she was holding back in the bond. And he was getting pretty fed up with it. He was trying as hard as he could to make things better for her, but she kept withdrawing from him. He would just finish what he was doing and then if she wanted to go to Vulcan... "Well, then it looks like you have everything under control. I guess there's not much more for me to do, is there?" There was an edge in his voice, and he didn't care if she wasn't emotionally savvy enough to hear it. "I'll be down in Engineering." He held himself ramrod straight all the way to the door, wanting to catch a glimpse of her as he left but refusing to turn and look at her.

xx

T'Pol watched Trip leave, trying to process the emotions filtering through the bond. She did not understand why he would be reacting with anger.

It was logical to not involve him in her conversation with Captain Archer when she was not sure that the captain would allow her back on the bridge. Even though he had made the request of her eleven days before, intervening circumstances could have led him to rethink his position. Once she had reached an agreement with the captain, it was also logical that she respect the terms of their arrangement and withhold the information from Trip. It would have been unseemly to breach the captain's confidence when he had agreed to every one of her demands.

It was not logical that he would be upset at her communications regarding her health. However much he might try to suppress it, the bond was suffused with his concern about the complexity that her being blind would bring to their lives. Anything that minimized that complexity should logically come as a relief but instead he seemed to resent her attempts at lessening the impact of her disability on their lives.

Humans' kaleidoscopic emotions were always difficult to decipher, seeming to go one way before veering in an unexpected direction. He had finally acted rationally when she was hurt during the gravitational wave incident when he had not treated her as if she were lessened by her lack of sight. She thought he had understood then that the loss of one attribute did not change who she was. But now he reacted irrationally when she addressed the issue directly by going to Captain Archer, as if her being blind had changed the tenor of their relationship.

A Vulcan mate would logically adjust to her disability and they would make common decisions about the optimal path of action for each of them independently. Trip didn't want her to be a burden and yet he refused pursuing the conversation about her return to Vulcan, where she would not be a burden. And now it seemed the more independently she acted, the more upset he was. The lack of logic was confounding. She had known from the beginning that there was a risk in becoming bonded to a Human who did not and could not share the same synaptic exigencies that she did. Perhaps her logic that a bond could work had been at fault.

xx

Mahdin almost jumped out of his skin as the doors opened. There, standing on the other side of the threshold was Lieutenant Reed, arms crossed over his chest, looking none-too-pleased.

"Specialist Madhin."

"Lieutenant Reed. You scared me, sir." Mahdin wondered if Reed could see how fast his heart was beating in his chest.

"What are you doing in T'Pol's lab?"

Mahdin was standing inside the lab room and would have been hard pressed to say he wasn't there. He nodded nervously. "I came to deliver a report."

Reed walked in, brushing past Mahdin who took a step back. He looked around at the room, but there did not seem to be anything amiss. "And why couldn't you give it to her in person?"

Mahdin swallowed. "She's off-duty and I thought perhaps I would find her in the lab."

Reed looked around again, everything seemed to be in place. He turned back to Mahdin. "Very well. Go on ahead." Mahdin left with all due haste.

Malcolm looked at the door closing behind him, wondering if he had missed anything.

xx

T'Pol winced as her knee hit the floor, the shock of the fall reverberating through the healing wound in her side. There should have been nothing in the path from the door to her desk. The case had been precisely positioned in the peripheral area of the echolocation device, where she could not perceive it without directed focus.

She got back up gingerly. She knew from eidetic memory that the case was not where it was when she left. Someone else had come into her lab, someone whose smell had been long removed by the Enterprise air filters. Access to the labs was not restricted and even though everyone knew this to be her lab anyone could have gone in for any number of reasons. The repositioning of the case could have been a random occurrence resulting from typical Human sloppiness. Or a carefully perpetrated trap.

The possibility that it was intentional demanded that she carefully take note of everything else in the lab and she proceeded to visually explore the entire room from where she stood. The echolocation device rendered only a sliver of the room at a time, making the process irritatingly slow. Having to wait for the sonar image to recompose itself before paying attention to every detailed rod that constituted it was mentally taxing. In the end, nothing else seemed to be amiss and she plopped in her chair, rubbing her knee.

Her mental energy was drained. Her shift had not started yet and she considered delaying her arrival on the bridge until she could recover. But this would worry Trip and undermine her efforts to not be an additional burden because of her blindness. She got up, rubbing her temples even though she knew the physical massage would not alleviate the mental pain.

xx

"Bridge to Doctor Phlox."

Phlox rushed to his desk, hit the intercom. "Phlox here, Hoshi."

"I have a communication for you from Starbase 4, Doctor, I think it's the one you were expecting."

Phlox harrumphed with glee. "That must be a positive. Anything about a package?"

"The communique says you have a package waiting at Starbase 4. The paperwork is imbedded." Hoshi's tone betrayed her excitement.

Phlox could have whooped with joy. "Send it along. Nobody else knows, right?"

"Nobody else knows. It's on its way to you, marked private and confidential." She didn't add that the only ones on Enterprise that may inquire were Lieutenant Reed and she had an in where he was concerned, and Captain Archer, who was having enough trouble managing day-to-day ship business without his XO.

"Dr. Phlox to Commander Tucker." Trip interrupted the engine review he was having with Hess, walked to the intercom. She didn't give him one of her usual bawdy remarks and he would have much preferred if she had. She didn't know how grating it was to have people walk on eggshells around him, just because his wife was wearing an echolocation device. Come on, people, it was simply a different way of seeing. He hoped Phlox wasn't calling him about something medical. "Trip here."

"It came. It's waiting for us at Starbase 4." Phlox was as excited as a kid.

"I can't wait until we get there. It's just been a really difficult adjustment and I need a solution." Trip was as excited as he was.

Phlox looked at the intercom for a few seconds after they cut off. He thought he knew what Trip meant but he wondered if he really did.

xx

It was an intriguing feature of the Humans around her that they did not seem able to fully apprehend that her disability was strictly limited to one of the senses. Instead, it often seemed as if they thought that her inability to see was accompanied by an inability to hear, or at least reduced capabilities in that regard.

As a result, where crew members would at least have made an effort to speak in hushed tones, a somewhat delusory endeavor as, if they had first ascertained the level at which she would be unable to hear them, they would have discovered it was much lower than what they could achieve, they no longer made such efforts. Perhaps on the mistaken assumption her hearing was based on lip-reading.

She wasn't sure about the reason for the rampant speculations about their relationship from the junior classes and Phlox was similarly flummoxed, but it was uncomfortable to hear them speak about it without care about whether she could hear them.

"You can see it when he talks to her, he looks as cold as can be." That was a cadet from Security. She debated whether she should just walk over to the table of crewmembers and inform them that Trip kept his features rigidly still in order to give her a better chance to see them. She decided against it. It would be embarrassing for them and would not yield any positive results. At that moment the young woman at the table pushed back in her chair, laughing. "Mr. Eligible-but-married will soon be Mr. Eligible again, you'll see. He's already showing signs he doesn't want to spend as much time with her."

T'Pol was exiting the mess hall and did not react. When she arrived at their quarters, Trip was not there. The intercom soon buzzed to let her know he was working late again, a project in Engineering, and he wouldn't be back until she was asleep.

Had the crewwoman's reading of the situation been accurate? Being Human, there was a possibility the female had a better understanding of the situation.

T'Pol tried to calculate the odds that Trip would not want to maintain a relationship with a disabled spouse but found that her logic was uncertain where he was concerned. She could appreciate the additional weight placed on him by her inability to adequately fend for herself in situations that called for visual reliance but she lacked the frame of reference that would instruct how a Human would react. His actions thus far had been equivocal and probabilities were not aligning towards any specific reaction. Perhaps going to Vulcan would provide him with the space necessary to adjust.

xx

Trip rushed to their quarters, very much aware he was late. He had been late every day for a week, two weeks, more actually, but he couldn't tell her why and he also couldn't be late on meeting the program goals. Talk about a rock and a hard place. He rushed in, found her sitting on the bed cross legged, obviously waiting for him.

"I'm sorry" sometimes there was nothing else to be said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Meeting your obligations would prevent having to apologize."

He could tell this was shaping up to be an unpleasant evening. He mentally kicked himself. She needed him to be able to meditate, if he wasn't there and she couldn't meditate, what kind of mood did he expect her to be in? He was lucky she didn't outright bite his head off.

"Yeah, I know. I'm really sorry. Let me wash up and I'll be there."

"It's fine. I was able to meditate." The echolocation device was no longer distractingly painful since the modifications made by Trip and Hess. The meditation had been difficult, of poor quality. But in the event Trip no longer wanted to be involved with her she needed to be able to meditate on her own.

Trip looked at her appraisingly. That explained why she didn't bite his head off outright. Obviously she must have been one mad cat if she was still as pissy even after having had meditated.

At the same time he felt a great sense of loss. Their joined meditation was one of the things he could do for her. If she didn't need him for that, then she was obviously preparing to be rid of him. He had been deluding himself thinking that somehow he could stand as an _akka_. She didn't want that. She had never wanted it. She had been planning to go back to Vulcan all along. He wasn't sure he minded anymore. If she wanted to go there, then good luck to her.

xx

"You have to tell T'Pol."

"Tell her what, that one of her team was in her lab, to which he has rights of access, to deliver a report but she wasn't there? That seems to go beyond coddling and I'm not sure she'd like that very much."

Hoshi nodded, toweling her hair dry. "Yeah, when you put it like that. Still, I think you should tell her."

"Give me a good reason."

"He just got his ass handed out to him and everyone knows he's the reason why T'Pol came back to the bridge, even though it's really difficult for her. And he's there under the watchful eye – or ear – of his Commanding Officer who hears everything he says and does. I don't know about you, but if I were in his shoes I'd be stressed to the point of a heart attack. You're the one that says some emotions can drive people to do crazy things."

"What crazy things can he do in her lab? It's a lab, remember, not much there."

"I don't know… It's so easy if someone can't see. Set things up so they fall, leave scalpels among the pens, all kinds of small things. He could make the whole place a booby-trap."

Malcolm looked at Hoshi with a twinge of surprise at the ease with which she had come up with potentially harmful schemes. "Yes, but what would the point be? I mean, he would be caught so fast his head would spin."

"Revenge. Just getting back at her. A thousand small cuts."

Malcolm was taking careful mental note while fussing with one of the legs of his uniform. "Why did you say it's difficult for her to be on the bridge?"

"Malcolm! Can't you see?!" Hoshi rolled her eyes in her head. "You men, you have to have things spelled out for you, don't you?"

Malcolm squinted at her, trying to figure what he had obviously been missing. As an intelligence officer, nothing should be evading his keen oversight. "Yes?" Brevity would allow him to avoid saying something obviously foolish.

"Don't you see how tiring it is for her? I know she'll never say anything but at the end of the day she looks positively green."

"Well, she's Vulcan."

"Malcolm!" Hoshi threw a shoe in his direction as he laughed at his own joke. He picked up the shoe and held it aloft, far from her grasp, even on tiptoes.

"Come on, we've got to get ready." She pleaded.

"You've got to get ready. I'm already in uniform. A kiss for your shoe."

It was quicker to yield than to fight.

The two lovers came out of her quarters almost together, after a careful review of foot traffic in the hallway revealed that nobody was coming and they didn't have to put up much in the form of pretenses.

xx

Mahdin looked at Lieutenant Reed approach T'Pol on the bridge and tried to keep an eye on them without being noticed. It had been over a week since he'd try to jerry-rig her lab and he had thought the whole thing was forgotten. He had actually come to his senses as he was setting things up, realized there was no way he could not be caught and the repercussions would be far worse than anything he was going through. There could be many topics Reed needed to discuss with T'Pol but a sixth sense kept pressing at the back of his mind that they were talking about him. He started reviewing alibis and excuses in his head, concocting the story that he would tell if anyone asked.

He saw Reed walk back to his station and T'Pol get up and approach the Captain's chair. None of them looked in his direction but the hackles on his back would not go down. Archer and the Vulcan spent a few minutes talking and he saw Archer nod a few times, his face losing its cheerfulness as the conversation proceeded. Archer got up and left the bridge, glancing at Mahdin as he did so.

"Specialist Mahdin, in my ready room."

Madhin swallowed reflexively. The communications officer, Hoshi, had turned to look at him but he couldn't read anything in her enigmatic features. He straightened up avoiding looking at his Commanding officer or at the security officer, worried his features would give him up. In any case, there was always a chance what Archer wanted to talk about was unrelated.

The captain kept him standing for a few minutes as he called his record on his computer, visibly skimming through. Then the man looked at him.

"What were you doing in T'Pol's lab?"

Mahdin was ready. "As I told Lieutenant Reed when we encountered each other at the door, I had gone to deliver my weekly report to the Commander but she wasn't there." Archer nodded with the air of someone who had expected the answer. He smiled at Mahdin but his eyes were cold.

"And it couldn't wait until the next day?"

"The Commander is a demanding officer, Captain, I didn't want to disappoint her." Mahdin internally patted himself on the back for a really smooth answer.

"I'm sure you didn't." Archer's tone was wry and Mahdin couldn't read him. He was still smiling, his eyes still as cold. "Let me ask, Specialist, did you touch anything while you were there?"

"I don't remember, Captain. I may have thought about leaving my report on the desk and then decided against it, so in that sense, I'm sure I must have touched things, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was so focused on the report, I couldn't tell you for sure." Mahdin smiled back at Archer, knowing there was no way they could pin anything on him. If a sample case happened to have been in the wrong place, sitting as a silent trap, it could also have been entirely coincidental. He congratulated himself for having given up on his initial plans. A sample case out of place could be due to anything. And at least he had the plausible excuse that he didn't remember.

"I see." Archer's smile disappeared. "I know the labs are free of access to all crew members and that has never been an issue before. Let's try to keep it that way, shall we. I suggest you avoid touching things in other crew members' labs. Dismissed."

Mahdin exhaled, relieved to the point of giddiness. "Yes, Captain." As he was getting to the door, Archer's voice cut over to him. "And Mahdin, to make myself clear… the Commander is willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on this but if I ever hear you've been alone in her lab again, I won't be too happy about it."

Mahdin swallowed again, aware his situation on Enterprise had gone from bad to worse.


	25. Contagion 25 First Generation Solution

'You wanted to see me Doctor?"

"Yes, yes, take a seat. I wanted to run a diagnostic, see how things are proceeding."

"May I remind you that you ran a diagnostic a week ago, when we arrived at Starbase 4. I fail to see how a week could make a difference when you yourself said not to expect progress on less than a monthly basis."

"I know very well what I said." Phlox was a little peeved at having his words thrown back at him "I need to check your optic nerve again and I have something to discuss with you." He paused. "I also asked Commander Tucker to join us."

T'Pol didn't reply, though an elegant eyebrow pointed out that may not have been the most inspired decision. "I doubt Commander Tucker can be drawn away from his engines."

"Was that a snide comment?" Phlox had sensed for a while that things were tense between thje two of them but he had brushed that off as adjustment pains. He had hoped that the brief stay at Starbase 4 would give Trip the opportunity to rest and reset, help the two of them get into the new normal. Obviously his hope had been disappointed.

"A statement of fact."

"He will come." He made a note to dig a little deeper once the agitation of departing from Starbase 4 had subsided.

"Very well, Doctor." An aura of reprobation emanated from his patient while Phlox went through a series of scans and measurements. Finally the doctor looked up again.

"I know this is slim satisfaction but the optic nerve has not atrophied. That's actually a very good sign."

"If we are quite done, I would like to return to duty."

"Not so fast, T'Pol, not so fast." Phlox bounced on his heels in anticipation. "I wanted to talk to you about an experimental device that is being developed by the Federation Institute of Technology under the oversight of the Interspecies Medical Exchange. It's a fairly groundbreaking project, not many know about it. They're trying to recreate eyesight by transmitting visual signals directly into the brain. Hmm, it's a little bit more technical than that but in essence that is what is achieved. At least according to preliminary results."

T'Pol looked towards Phlox with upraised eyebrows. The doctor was going on. "It's still very much in prototype stage, and not available to the public. I contacted the IME when we left Luspypso. Let's just say that given our, hmm, intervention on Luspypso they were favorably inclined to select Enterprise as a site for their field testing."

"I do not understand."

Phlox nodded. She understood all right, she wasn't sure she believed it. "They agreed that you are an optimal candidate for prototype testing, given your training and experience as a scientist, and having only recently become sightless. While not strictly necessary, the fact that your optic nerves are still healthy will enable a true comparison of the functionality of the equipment." Phlox grinned. "They've sent us one of their units to test. The parameters are to use it and record the adjustments to be made, help make the device universally helpful." He cleared his throat. "That's where you come in."

"But the use and improvement of a prototype requires the involvement of one of the technicians that participated in its elaboration."

"Exactly!"

At that precise moment the doors swished open and Trip walked in. "Ah, Commander Tucker! Your timing couldn't have been better!" Phlox turned to T'Pol "Commander Tucker has become certified as a technician for the prototype and will be intimately involved in configuring the device as we go through the test phases."

T'Pol was staring at Trip through the echolocation device. There was a lot of data to process and the emotional arousal resulting from Trip's involvement made it very difficult for the higher cortical functions to dominate. Thus she was speechless. She saw Phlox's mouth move but with the delay from the echolocation wasn't sure if he was talking or had been talking. A white noise seemed to be drowning everything around her.

Phlox had noticed that his patient looked shell-shocked and he kept talking to give her the time to digest the information. "The FIT scientists call the prototype "Big Brother". I think it's meant to be an ironic reference to a literature classic from old Americania but it doesn't translate very well for us aliens. We'll have to find a new name, hmm?"

Trip had walked to T'Pol's side, careful not to touch her as she seemed on the verge of an emotional overload. He started talking technology, knowing the purely scientific angle would give her mind an anchor of sort. "It's still fairly rudimentary at this point, but the concept is not that dissimilar to echolocation. Except they're not relying on sound waves. The equipment is actually compressing images and feeding them directly in the brain. Not as images, of course, but as neural impulses. I understand it's pretty close to being able to see."

T'Pol was starting to look her normal green self again.

"Shall we, hmmm?" Phlox has finally stopped bouncing on his heels, and he walked to a large crate resting on his deck, extracting a helmet-like contraption that looked like an old style American football helmet, with a grid in front.

"This is the prototype, Big Brother, also known as FITMIE Proto S301. Don't ask if it means anything." Phlox told her. "Commander Tucker has already initialized the software and it's ready to be used. Unfortunately, none of us can tell if it works or not or how it's going to work. For that, you need to put the device on."

T'Pol turned to Trip, having finally regained the use of her executive functions. "You are certified in the use of the device?"

"Yes I am." He smiled at her. "A lot of late-working evenings, and I mean a lot."

T'Pol didn't answer. She had much to think about. Phlox was approaching with the helmet "I need you to stay on the bio bed so I can monitor your stress reaction."

"Stress reaction?" she felt she kept repeating what was said to her.

"The areas of your brain that process visual images have been, ah, under-stimulated for the past couple of months, we don't know how this will feel, and the images may not appear as regular images. It also depends which area they're going to feed into. That's why it's a prototype, hmm?"

Phlox was handing her a padd. "I have told them I take entire responsibility for anything that happens but they still asked for a formal release." T'Pol nodded and affixed her thumbprint to the screen. She didn't need to read what made no difference in her decision.

Phlox had electrodes in his hand. "One of the aspects we need to work on is portability. Right now I need to set up a bunch of electrodes for the device to feed into but we're looking to pare these down to what is strictly necessary." T'Pl nodded and waited until he had finished. That didn't make the device very practical.

"Actually, I think I've already figured that one out." Trip interrupted. "We can integrate the electrodes all around the inside of the helmet with fuel cell batteries. Those should generate enough moisture for contact, since the skin is a conductive organ. That's just going to require some fiddling around."

"First, let's figure out exactly which electrodes we need."

T'Pol had a definite sense the conversation was going on around her and not through her. It was a different experience to be the experiment rather than the one conducting it. The limited visual range of the echolocation device reinforced her sense of being a laboratory subject. While her relative situation to Trip and Phlox was logical, she found that it was not particularly pleasant or gratifying and she would not be looking to repeat it should there be other choices. She stored in her database of personal information that she did not like being a guinea pig.

Just then, Phlox brought the helmet by. "Commander, I need to repeat that this is a prototype and we do not know how it works or the dangers involved. The test subjects who have used it where all sighted and only put it on for very short amounts of time. We do not know what may happen with more consistent use. You can still refuse to be part of the experiment, I want you to know."

"It would be a waste of resources to return the device at this time."

Trip smiled briefly at the well-known evasion, knowing the echolocation device would not capture it. Coming from T'Pol, that was an admission she couldn't wait to try it.

Phlox handed him the helmet and he deftly took it with the ease of someone who had familiarity with it. He helped T'Pol take off the echolocation device and guided her hands around the helmet, helping her slide it on. He noted how the rounded design was not adapted to her ears. More pressure points he would have to be careful of, see if there was a way to adjust. The helmet completely hid her features and gave her the appearance of having just come back from a moon walk.

"I'm going to turn it on now." He looked at Phlox, waiting to make sure the doctor was ready. They both held their breath as he connected the electrodes.

There was an audible gasp and T'Pl bought her hands to her head. "Do you need us to turn it off?" Trip asked. There was no answer. Trip watch the arrows on the monitor above the bio bed shoot to the top of the range. "Doctor?" His voice was strained.

Phlox was busy with his hand held scanner, not looking at Trip. He gave a brusque shake of his head "No, no, this is a normal reaction, the system is stressed, it should adjust momentarily." T'Pol was breathing harshly, it could have been from pain or from the sudden neural stimulation.

"Are you ok?" Trip asked again. "Do you want us to turn it off?"

"No... No..." The helmet slowly turned to him. He was standing right by the biobed. She reached out and touched his sleeve. "I can ... see ... you."

"You can see me?" Trip thought he was going to burst from joy.

"Yes, though you're indistinct." The helmet turned to where Phlox was standing "I can see Dr, Phlox too, and Sickbay." Trip tried to resist but found he could not. He started jumping up and down across Sickbay. Phlox was grinning from one of his head to the other. The two men stared at each other in triumph. They had done it.

"Can you stand?" Phlox asked.

He waited for T'Pol to answer. He saw the helmet turn to him and then she suddenly pitched forward while the monitor dials went crazy. Phlox just caught her before she fell off the biobed.

xx

T'Pol woke up in the dark, wondering where she was. She couldn't remember going back to her quarters. She also couldn't remember taking the echolocation device off but she had memories of seeing. Slowly it came back to her, the prototype, Sickbay. She felt to see if she still had the helmet on.

"Ah you're waking up" Phlox voice was by her side. She heard him come closer. "How are you feeling?"

How was she feeling? The question always was a struggle for her, there were so many different planes of feeling. Phlox must have remembered who he was talking to, adjusted quickly. "I mean, are you functional?"

That, she understood. "Yes, Doctor. What happened?"

"That's what I was going to ask you."

The doors to Sickbay switched open and she felt Trip walk in. The bond had alerted him that she as awake again. "How are you doing?" He asked as soon as he got in.

"I am fine. Where is the visual device?"

"We took everything off, I need to scan your synaptic connections now that you're awake."

T'Pol stayed still while Phlox activated his scanner. The doctor harrumphed when he was done. "Well it looks like there's no damage."

"Where's the visual device?" T'Pol asked more insistently

"I'm not sure about this." Trip replied. "You went into a dead faint. It looked pretty bad."

"We need to try again." Her voice left no room for discussion.

"I'm not going to chance it."

Phlox looked at Trip in surprise. If this is how he was approaching T'Pol's disability, perhaps it was no wonder that the two of them were at odds recently. "Commander Tucker, may I remind you that Commander T'Pol has willingly agreed to test the prototype, hmm? If there's a medical reason not to go forward, I believe I am the one best qualified to decide so, hmm?"

Trip looked definitely somber. "What if there is permanent damage? You said yourself that could happen."

Phlox looked at the young man appraisingly. It seemed to be worried about something else happening. Perhaps handling one disability was already a stretch, two might be more than he could take.

"But it didn't." Phlox curtly shut him down.

He turned to T'Pol. "I checked and the previous testers of the prototypes were all sighted and they didn't wear the device for longer than two or three minutes, to check if it powered on and that kind of things. This was the first time someone has had the helmet on for longer than five minutes. What do you remember just before you passed out?"

"I do not remember passing out."

"No, I'm sure you don't. The Vulcan synaptic system has this wonderful cut-off feature that prevents it being overwhelmed. But you must remember the minutes before."

T'Pol stayed silent, thinking awhile. Then she turned to where she thought Phlox's voice had come from. "Initially, I could see Trip and I could see you and the room, but as the image became more distinct it was as if every detail of the entire visual range was being impressed on me at once."

Phlox nodded. No wonder the synapses had cut off. "There was too much sensory input. The normal visual system notices everything within sight, but the brain filters most of it out so it can focus on the image it needs to. Otherwise, it would be like trying to see every detail of a postcard all at once. Our brains are not set up for that." He turned to Trip. "We need to filter the input, prevent it from being overwhelming."

"How are we going to do that? I mean how do we determine what gets filtered out?" Trip was chewing on his lower lip. They all stayed silent, thinking.

"The echolocation device." T'Pol said after a few minutes. Trip looked up. "What about the echolocation device?"

"It naturally filters the information, the range is reduced, the impressions rendered are based on distance to the object. That is similar to what would be close-up as compared to background in a picture."

She couldn't see Trip's face suddenly becoming illuminated. "There might be a way to transform the echolocation readings into neural packetsThen we could integrate the echolocation mechanism within the visual sensors, provide them with an ordering algorithm!"

"Can it be done?" This was technical stuff, beyond Phlox's ken.

"Yes, yes it can." Trip was nodding vigorously. "It would be one additional input into the system, it would come first, as a kind of traffic handling mechanism for the neural packets. The images of what is closest would come first, and the rest would follow in order. The delay would be too minuscule to measure but the brain would not be overloaded."

"How long before it is done?" For the first time since Luspypso T'Pol very logically wished she could see, so she could help Trip refine the device more quickly.

"No more than a day to replicate the echolocation circuits, I've already done a fair amount of work on understanding how it works. Integrating it will simply be a question of figuring out where it can physically lay within the helmet."

"Why does it need to be integrated? Could it be wrapped around the helmet and feed directly into the captors?"

Trip stared at T'Pol. "That's a brilliant idea. Then all I have to work on is the interface, I'll ask Hess to help, it won't take longer than a day or two. If she starts while I'm replicating the echolocation circuits, we could have the visual device ready for another spin in two days."

"Let's get on it, then." Phlox noted that they were both referring to the equipment as visual device. Perhaps there was something to that.

xx

It was well after the end of their shift on the second day and Trip and T'Pol were back in Sickbay to the great delight of Phlox who was enjoying the company almost as much as the medical exploration.

As the clock crept close to the time when T'Pol collapsed on the previous attempt, the two men held their breath, waiting. Five minutes ticked by, then ten, and still there was no adverse reaction from the test subject. Trip was all business while Phlox was taking copious notes. Once he was satisfied that all vital systems had stabilized, he signaled Trip that they were entering the second test.

"Can you stand up?"

T'Pol did, sticking close to the biobed, seeming tentative about moving forward.

"What is it?" Phlox asked.

"I am not able to decipher the relative position of everything in the room." T'Pol straightened imperceptibly, put her hands behind her back. "It seems as if everything in the room is exactly 1.3 meters away from me."

Trip's eyebrows hit his hairline. He looked up at Phlox. "Do you think it's due to how the brain processes the images?"

"Whether it is or not, we need to figure out why it is happening and find a way to fix it." Phlox was scowling. The prototype was much more of a prototype than he had been expecting. FIT was lucky that they had a top-notch trio of scientists helping this thing come to life. He suddenly looked up at the monitors.

"We're going to have to interrupt this. Showing your synapses are closed to being overloaded. Also there are signs of pain. We're going to try again tomorrow, I need to set up a training schedule, see how much of this is due to using new areas of your brain."

Trip was already by T'Pol's side. "Where does the pain come from?"

"The pressure on my ears is uncomfortable."

Trip helped T'Pol pull off the helmet, carefully lifting it over her ears. He winced when he saw the tips of her ears were bright green. He gently passed his fingers over the bruised tip, feeling himself swell in response as an answering green tint crept up in her neck. It seemed their bodies had come to associate the gesture with erotic arousal.

He blushed at Phlox's chuckle, this was bad enough without a witness. T'Pol brushed his hand with hers and his embarrassment flew out the window. Not paying much attention to what Phlox was saying, he helped her step off the bed then put the echolocation device back on, aware that every touch was heightening the physical tension for both of them.

"Well, Doc, we'll see you tomorrow." He knew through the bond that she thought taking leave was unnecessary, Phlox was not Human and would not expect them to stick around after the test was over.

Phlox just hemmed in response and then he was guiding her down the hallway to their quarters. As soon as the door closed she turned to him and he embraced her though the deep kissing did little to alleviate their shared need. In an expedient shortcut he grabbed her and carried her to the bed where he could finally pay proper attention to her ear tips. The physical pressure intensified until it became almost painful. Soon, they had freed each other from the restrictive uniforms and he was inside her in the syncopated dance of life. As the endorphins swept them off into oblivion, a whisper of a thought trailed that their release had been physically satisfying but emotionally unfulfilling.

He didn't know whether it was his thought or her thought.


	26. Contagion 26 Adjustments

"How bad can it be if you're still having sex?"

Trip rolled his eyes in his head. Trust Malcolm to only see that side of things.

"Sex doesn't make everything fine." He shook his head dejectedly. "It's just different, still good but there's something missing."

"Perhaps you just need some spice."

Trip was starting to really wonder why he had chosen to open up to Malcolm of all people. The man had an eight track mind on a one track subject. And yet he knew that there was a lot more to his friends's relationship with Hoshi than sex. For one Hoshi wouldn't take any less. So Malcolm should be able to get it. Trip just sat, twirling his drink between his fingers. The two friends were on a couch in the stargazing chamber, as good a place as any to get drunk while crying over the state of things.

Except that Malcolm was not doing much of the crying. Finally he stopped pretending he didn't have any idea was Trip was talking about. "Hoshi and I have been talking about it."

"Hoshi and you?" Trips head whipped up. Was it that obvious?

"Oh you know Miss Enterprise News. Like you could ever hide something like that from her."

"Wait— how many people know exactly? Is it that obvious?"

Malcolm avoided his gaze. "Well, I don't know how many exactly. I think Hess may have had her doubts."

Trip groaned. If Hess knew the entire ship knew. His second was neither shy nor soft-spoken.

"So what does Hoshi say?" Now Trip was getting miffed that his friend and his girlfriend were going at it about the state of his relationship. To talk to Malcolm about it was one thing, but to have Hoshi involved...

"We're not sure we understand. I mean you say she wants to go back to Vulcan and that's why you're withdrawing, but Hoshi thinks she wants to go back to Vulcan because you're withdrawing."

"Has T'Pol told her anything?"

Malcolm laughed. "T'Pol talk about matters of the heart? No, but Hoshi is close enough to her that she can pretty much tell."

Trip snorted in his drink. _Count on Hoshi to have it all wrong_. _That's why guys shouldn't discuss their best friends' relationships with their girlfriends_.

Malcolm looked at him. "If you don't want her to go back to Vulcan, why don't you tell her so?"

That made Trip angry. Once again he was painted into being the bad guy. "Because it's always me making efforts to fix things between us, and I'm tired of it."

"For goodness sake, Trip, she's a Vulcan!" Reed exclaimed. He looked at his friend in dismay. What exactly did he expect? He knew she was a Vulcan when he married the woman, didn't he?

"Since she's blind I've done everything I could to help her through it, everything. But she won't take my help. Instead, she just goes on and does whatever she wants without including me. I finally figured out she's been preparing to leave the whole time. Like nothing I do's good enough. But I'm not going to hold her back this time."

Malcolm eyed his friend quizzically. He wasn't living with them day in day out so he certainly couldn't claim to know how their relationship worked from the inside, but it seemed they still cared very much about each other. Perhaps he was missing something.

He groped for a safer topic. "How's the visual thingy coming?"

Trip welcomed being able to talk about something he actually understood. "It's moving along pretty well. We're coming close to the point where she could wear it all day long." After three weeks of testing and re-testing, late nights and early mornings, the helmet contraption was close to operational. When she wore it, T'Pol could see. She had told him and Phlox that she was not getting the visual images most people associated with seeing, but she did get detailed mental representations of her surroundings which included colors and facial expressions. The echolocation device had become a big part of the helmet, which was now part visual part auditory all neural. T'Pol and he called it the vand, for Visual Auditory Neural Device. Perhaps someone would come with a better name someday.

"Good, she'll no longer have to worry about Mahdin tripping her up."

"Mahdin? What's with Mahdin?"

Uh-Oh. Malcolm realized that perhaps he had just opened another can of worms. Had T'Pol not told Trip? Honestly, the two of them were ridiculous, how little they truly communicated. Hoshi and he spent hours talking about everything and everyone. But then again, Hoshi was Miss Gossip, not something you could ever accuse T'Pol of. And Trip kept saying most of their communication was through some form of connection the two had, that was not sexual. Whatever rocked his boat. But that boat seemed to have developed a good-size leak.

In the meantime, he had a situation on his hands with a certain chief engineer going through a slow boil. Malcolm groaned inwardly. And he had been trying to lighten up the mood.

"What do you mean about Mahdin?" Obviously Trip was not going to let go. Malcolm weighed telling him versus not telling him in terms of conjugal peace and Mahdin's safety, decided that enough time had gone by that perhaps he could refer to it as "Remember when..."? In a few words, he caught Trip up on his encounter with Mahdin in T'Pol's lab and their later suspicion he had planted an obstacle there to make her trip and fall. Successfully.

Trip's mouth was pencil-thin when he had finished. It was hard to know if he was angry at Mahdin or angry at not having been told about it. Which unfortunately neatly brought Reed right back to where their conversation had started.

Obviously it was time for those two to start actually talking to each other.

xx

Trip was bent over the vand with a scowl on his face, checking the connections inside the protective shell. T'Pol sat next to him, impassively watching him work. "You say the connection's fuzzy?" he asked her.

"She nodded." Yes, it keeps coming in and out, as if there were a faulty circuit."

"Why didn't you tell me about Mahdin?" He still was looking into the vand.

T'Pol was reminded she had the echolocation device on, she would not be able to read his features even if she saw them, which was of no significance as his head was still partially hidden by the helmet. "There was nothing to be said."

"Really? There was nothing to be said? The man could be a threat and there's nothing to be said, even to your husband?"

She felt the anger surge at her, didn't clamp down on the bond fast enough to prevent its impact. Anger was a Vulcan emotion and her entire being was primed for it. It resonated within her, triggering a sympathetic physiological response. It took great synaptic effort to untether the anger from her higher cortical functions and suppress it down to a level of non-interference. She looked at Trip coldly.

"I was unhurt. Mahdin's culpability could not be established and his behavior has been exemplary since Captain Archer talked to him."

"Captain Archer talked to him?! And I didn't even know!"

For a fleeting second, T'Pol had a glimpse of the hurt and misunderstanding that had crept between the two of them. But her innate vulnerability from her lack of sight made it unbearable to lower her defenses further and she retreated instead into the cool arms of logic, as a comfort and a shield. "Logically, once Captain Archer had addressed the situation, nothing further required to be done."

"The hell with your logic!"

The vehemence of the response surprised her into silence. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Trip was looking into the vand, close to where he had taken enough of the inner material out so that it no longer pressed on her ears. "I figured out what the issue is. You're not going to like it but that's the only way to correct for the erratic signal."

He was back to being all business again. She may not be Human, but even in a Vulcan his tone would have been indicative of trouble brewing.

xx

Hoshi looked at Trip and T'Pol as they stepped onto the bridge, one after another. Since they always comported themselves professionally outside of their quarters, nobody could have told anything was amiss between them. Nobody except an ace communications grand guru who could read body language about as well as she could read Vulcan and Klingonese. Not that there was much body language to be had from Vulcans, it was mostly in the eyebrows and the corners of the mouth, though the tips of the ears were more of a giveaway that the entire race realized, but Trip was Human, an emotive one at that, and his body language was a delicious smorgarsbord of gives.

She had told Malcolm way before Trip ever talked to him that things were not good between the two of them, and now he had confirmed they were even worse than either realized. As they stepped to their respective stations she was analyzing their stance for any clue that T'Pol was planning to go back to Vulcan and that Trip didn't care. And coming up empty-handed on both counts.

She shook her head. It was difficult enough figuring out relationships between men and women, they had to up the ante and try the double whammy of Human male to Vulcan female. If they couldn't read the hieroglyphics of each other's race and sex, well, they kind of deserved it, didn't they?

T'Pol caught her looking in her direction and nodded. Hoshi nodded back, part of her wondering why T'Pol still had the echolocation device on. Malcolm had told her the unit was ready, the wand she thought they called it, it was an appropriate name, kind of a magic tool. But she wasn't sure why T'Pol was not using it if it was as good as Malcolm said Trip said it was. She would ask her at the first opportunity. There was nothing like getting information directly from the horse's mouth.

"So where should we go next?" Captain Archer was scanning the bridge, waiting for an answer. Now that they had left Starbase 4, handed Wygdeld and Yonde to the local Federation authorities, picked up the visual prototype, caught up on some shore leave though after what happened at Luspypso requests for shore leave had been rather scarce, they were back on their exploratory mission, supposedly on their way back to Earth, which meant that they were free to explore anything along the way and if that happened to take them several thousand parsecs off course – well, that was the price of exploration. She could almost see Archer rubbing his hands at the thought it would be him, his ship and his crew on the open seas. Of space.

As everyone on the bridge was quietly waiting for the captain to make a decision, Archer went back to sit in the captain's chair. "Travis?"

"Yes, sir."

"What is the second to next star in the North/Northwest Quadrant from us on the Vulcan charts?"

There were a few minutes of silence as Travis looked up the charts. Hoshi noticed Archer hadn't asked Mahdin for the information even though the charts were already loaded in the science console. And he couldn't ask T'Pol anything that required actually viewing a chart. Hoshi really wondered about the wand. Malcolm said that Trip said it allowed her to read things normally. Why wasn't she wearing it?

"There's a cluster of three stars there, labeled MS450, 451 and 452."

Archer looked over at T'Pol. "Any significance?"

"The naming convention suggests that the planets were noticed but not explored."

A grin spread over Archer's face. "Travis, eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a tiger by the toe, full warp ahead to MS-451."

He turned back to T'Pol, whose eyebrows showed signs of wanting to reach the ceiling. "It's an old scientific Human method." He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"I see." Her tone, accented by the eyebrows, managed to convey exactly how much regard she had for the primitive scientific selection methodology followed by the captain. She was looking at a point off-center from him. Hoshi wondered if Archer knew it was because focusing on the facial features, with the motility inherent to Humans and the poor rendering of the echolocation device, 'induced a feeling close to seasickness'. Probably not. Very few understood exactly how taxing and uncomfortable the device was, probably because they hadn't bothered asking.

Even if Trip had an idea about it he probably didn't know the full depth of it, she had had a hunch T'Pol would be trying to protect him from the full truth, even before Malcolm had confirmed communication between the two of them had broken down. It seemed so clear to her, why couldn't they figure it out themselves? T'Pol wanted to protect him from how disabled she truly was and he took it as her pushing him away. He should know her by now. He should know how proud she was. He should understand how terribly difficult it was for a Vulcan to feel vulnerable. He should, he should, he should. And she should know he was all about fixing things and it made him crazy that he couldn't fix that for her when he loved her so much and it had nothing to do with her being disabled and all that crap.

She wanted to reach over and hit both of them upside the head until some sense crept back into them.

Good thing they were on their way to MS-451 or whatever, it gave everyone more time to come to terms.

xx

"So, I have to hear from Hoshi that the vand is too uncomfortable for you to wear."

T'Pol briefly closed her eyes. If she were Human, she would have sighed. She had a resounding headache, like she did every time she had been on duty on the bridge and she had taken a detour by the science lab to rest for a while, not to get into another argument with Trip. If she understood the Human concept of argument. The Vulcan equivalent would have been a regularly paced exchange of increasingly cutting statements, running cold rather than hot. The Human-style argument on Vulcan would lead to the unnecessary shedding of blood.

She forced herself to look at his face, hoping it would be static enough not to induce nausea. However much easier it was for her, it seemed rather unfortunate that his face seemed caught in an unending frown. "Have you tried putting on the vand?"

He heard the appeal in her tone, seemed slightly mollified. "You know I've tried it every time I made an adjustment before I let you put it on. Of course, I've tried it."

"Have you tried putting it on without turning it on, just having it on your head."

Trip seemed taken aback by the question. "Well, no, not really. I can do it if you want."

"Please do."

Trip put on the helmet and crossed his arms over his chest. With the grid in front of his face like a whale's baleen plate, he could hardly see anything. He waited.

"What do you hear?" T'Pol asked him.

What did he hear… He wasn't hearing much at all if you asked him. And suddenly it cut through the silence, a noise like listening in a tight seashell, amplified by the close shell of the helmet, resounding all around his head. It would drive him nuts if he had to listen to that all day. All he had to do was add Vulcan hearing to the mix. He imagined it was sensitive enough that it could be painful.

He took the helmet off faster than he had intended, grateful for the additional space for his ears, it might have hurt otherwise.

"I'm not sure how to fix this…" He was staring at the vand in his hand.

"It is still very helpful to be able to see for a limited amount of time." T'Pol was explaining. "But that is why I cannot wear the vand for longer periods."

But Trip was thinking. Finally he had something that his engineer skills might be able to solve. "Not so far, not so fast." He held a hand up to stop her. "I'm not sure how to fix this doesn't mean it can't be fixed. It just means I'm not sure which way to go about it right now. I have to review some things." He looked up. "Where are the latest schematics padds, the ones where we note all the adjustments we've made?"

Within a short while she had handed them to him, he had handed her the vand in turn, and they started poring over the accumulated knowledge of the past month.

The thought hit Trip that they still worked very well as a technical team. He didn't think she would find the same level of easy collaboration with any other scientist on Vulcan.

xx

"It does take a couple of months to adapt to the device" Phlox was scanning T'Pol's retina, looking for any sign that the optic nerve was healing. He finished, injected her with a dose of novopraline. "This will help."

"What about permanent implants?" T'Pol asked, putting the vand back on. It no longer looked much like the helmet that had initially been delivered, shrunk in size to a band no larger than a half-face mask that wrapped around her head, kept from slipping down by a criss-crossing web at the top. Most importantly it no longer entirely covered her ears. It had taken an additional two weeks of tinkering and leveraging all potential system synergies, plus the broad engineering and scientific teams, but they had come up with a design that she could wear all day long.

In order to maintain a stable connection, the electrodes inserted into the vand needed direct contact with the skin, which required that T'Pol permanently shave two square areas on her temples. She had come to pragmatic terms with the changes by integrating them into a new stylish hairdo. What she was asking of Phlox was the insertion of permanent implants that the vand could connect with, which would allow her to regrow her hair but also, more importantly, would stabilize the visual input. The images she saw were fuzzy and distorted on the edges, and the cause of the headache that plagued her as soon as she slipped the vand on.

"It's still too early." Phlox replied, making sure to stay within the center of the vision field of the vand. He was well aware of the distortions on the edges, and that the fact that the headaches were caused by her brain trying to adjust. "It takes a minimum of six months for the nerve to regenerate, even with the treatment, and we still have a ways to go. I'm afraid you may need to deal with the headaches for a while longer."

T'Pol exhaled in response, a sound which cut straight to Phlox's heart. He needed to talk about something else. "You know, Captain Archer has been asking me to release you from light duty."

"I am not ready to regain my position on the bridge." The sentence came at knee-jerk speed, as he had expected. He turned to look at her.

"Now, that might have been true when you were limited to the echolocation device, but the vand allows you to see pretty much normally. If I am not mistaken, you can read, you can see the intercom on the wall and could reach it of you had to. I am hard pressed to find a medical reason that would prevent your presence on the bridge, hmm?"

He realized anew that the wand hid her eyes and her eyebrows, making it very difficult to infer what she may be thinking.

"It would be unsafe for Enterprise to rely on me as the only science officer on the bridge."

It was Phlox's turn to sigh. "And why would that be?" They had already had that conversation. Not many times, but enough that he knew all the pat answers she was going to serve up.

"The vand is a mechanical contraption, therefore more liable to breakage, either due to a faulty technical configuration or an external force, such as a fall. Probabilities are much higher than average that I may become completely incapacitated during a critical time for Enterprise."

"And by completely incapacitated, you mean?"

"That I would not be able to see."

"Let me make two comments to that, Commander. First, you already have experience with not being able to see and if I remember from your training logs, you were actually quite adept at functioning without sight. That would not meet the definition of incapacitated." Phlox took a breath. "Second, the risk that you would become injured or otherwise be prevented from functioning during, as you say, hmm, a critical time, is no higher now than it was before. So you're only looking at the additional probability that perhaps you would have to operate without sight during what in any case would be a short-term interval. I would like to know how you came up with 'much higher than average'?" Hoshi had told him that was called calling someone's bluff. He would have to teach T'Pol the expression at some point. But not now.

"Very well, Doctor. I will think about it." Her refusal to acknowledge his question was proof he'd got her.

Phlox smiled, knowing she would see his smile and know he only meant the best for her. "Do so but don't take too long. I owe the Captain an answer. How about you let me know in, hmm, forty-eight hours?"

T'Pol's only answer was to slide off the biobed in her usual feline manner. When she reached the door to Sickbay, she half-turned around, head cocked towards the ground. "Forty-eight hours."

Phlox watched her cross the threshold with a broad grin. He knew she would say yes. She didn't have much choice and the two days were a transition period. Once she came back to her full position, everything would fall back into place. He was certain of it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _Hello, everyone. Once again the story is writing itself. Last night I thought there were only three more chapters (two after this one). Now I'm not so sure. Thank you for all the reviews, as usual extremely helpful. Hope you keep enjoying it. Feel free to let me know._

 _A-_


	27. Contagion 27 Archer's Folly

"Travis, magnify."

MS 450, 45 and 452 showed up on the screen, closely orbiting each other.

"We're two million miles away" Travis commented.

Silence fell over the bridge. Everyone was waiting. Finally T'Pol's voice cut-off from the consultant station. "Mr. Mahdin, please provide information about the planet."

Archer turned in his chair to send a pronounced glare her way. There was no need to point out Mahdin was still not up to the task. He refrained from commenting further. Things had not worked out quite as Phlox had expected. The resident Vulcan knew how to parse language for concreteness when it suited her objectives and Phlox had never said anything about her being the only science officer on the bridge. Tentative openings about going back full-time to her station without anybody else there had led to further conversations about diminished capacities or the fear of diminished capacities. Phlox had eventually told Archer it would be counter-productive to push as he suspected T'Pol suffered from a crisis of self-confidence which time would cure.

Which meant that, much to his chagrin, Archer had to contend with a rotation of science team personnel on the bridge. Efforts to limit the rotating crew to the few that showed some promise, in particular Danambe, the tall man from Free Nubiania, had been met with counterarguments about bench strength which he couldn't argue with. This week, it was once again Mahdin's turn and the only consolation was that he knew that T'Pol also would much rather not have the man on the bridge.

"They're all three Minshara-class planets. Logs of the Vulcan ships that first recorded them are terse." He threw a quick glance at T'Pol, which Archer intercepted. He wasn't going to drop criticisms at Vulcans, was he? Archer's eyes narrowed in annoyance. The man really was something else. But Mahdin reprieved himself in the next few minutes. "Apparently there were signs of warfare being waged around the planets, which is why they didn't stop and reconnoiter."

Archer saw Travis tense up at the helm.

"Any signs of warfare, Ensign?"

"Not that I can detect, sir, but we're still too far away."

"Easy does it, approach carefully."

There was an indistinct comment from the Science station. Hoshi turned abruptly towards Mahdin and one of T'Pol's eyebrows rose above the vand. Archer saw from the expression on Hoshi's face that she was both shocked and angry. He turned to look at Trip who was looking quite red in the face and exchanged a puzzled look with Archer. That told Archer he hadn't heard what Mahdin had said but T'Pol had and was not pleased with it.

"What was it Mr. Mahdin?"

"Nothing, sir."

"It wouldn't be right if only two people on the bridge heard what you said. Please share it with the rest of us."

Mahdin had grown two shades of pale. Hoshi was skewering him with a glare and while T'Pol's eyebrow had gone back into hiding behind the vand, Archer knew that her expression must be stoniness itself.

When he didn't answer Archer softly threatened "Or I could also have Ensign Sato repeat it, her hearing is on a par with a Vulcan's."

Mahdin quickly figured it would be worse if it didn't come from him. "I just expressed the view that the Vulcans who first noticed the planet were turncoats, sir."

One could have heard a pin drop. Trip was taking deep calming breaths in and out, trying to keep the fury animating the bond at bay. He found himself wanting to rush Mahdin and slowly strangle him while repeatedly striking his head against his console. He grabbed the edges of his station for anchor, hard pressed to untangle the Vulcan reaction from his own Human-scale anger, trying to reach T'Pol over the bond to let her know that her feelings were echoing to him.

"I have a feeling those are not the exact words you used. Are they, Specialist Mahdin?"

The man cleared his throat. "Not quite, no, sir."

"I didn't think so." Archer got up and took a step towards the Science console and Mahdin reflexively took a half-step back. Travis quickly turned his head down to hide a smirk. Talking about cowards... Even though the two men were equally matched in size, the sheer scale of his anger made Archer seem to tower over Mahdin.

"There is no room for bigotry on my ship, Mr. Mahdin, and if those are the views you hold, I would suggest you make sure I never, and I mean never, hear them again." Archer made to turn, looked back. "I also suggest you think about looking for another posting when we reach the next starbase, I'm sure there are plenty of other ships that would welcome your help."

Archer left a stricken Mahdin behind and walked back to his command chair. Reed kept watching Mahdin, ready to spring forward at a moment's notice. With men like those, one never knew where the breaking point was.

The confrontation had released a good deal of the collective tension on the bridge and the pressure on Trip relented just enough that he could slowly unclench his fingers from the console, feeling washed out and exhausted. Now that the Vulcan anger had ebbed, the Human emotions could come to the fore and Trip found Mahdin being chewed out quite humorous, in a dark way. Almost as ironic as hearing Vulcans being called cowards. Rather than tell him to get off the ship, Archer should send Mahdin to Vulcan for a three-week all-expenses-paid hiking vacation, without a guide and without the protection of a clan. That should fix his attitude.

It was several minutes before another sound was heard on the bridge. It was Travis who broke the silence first, courageous man that he was. "We'll be in orbit in four hours, Captain."

"Keep an eye on those sensors. We don't want to step in a hornets' nest." Was the laconic reply.

xx

"I'm detecting a high level of ambient radioactivity on the surface, Captain." Mahdin was bent over the science scanner delivering the information that once again had to be requested by T'Pol. It was starting to become obvious the man would never learn.

"Anything on those sensors, Travis?"

"Still negative, sir. We're the only ship around."

"So we know that a couple of hundred years ago there were signs of warfare around those planets and now we have a high level of radioactivity on the surface of one of them. Thoughts, anyone? Besides the obvious."

T'Pol had her head turned towards him. "The _Nahr_ recorded the existence of the planets one hundred and seventy-three years ago, Captain." Archer nodded in acknowledgement of the correction, knowing that it was her form of accommodation to Human imprecision that she didn't also give him the exact number of months and days.

An eyebrow could be seen above the vand. "Specialist Mahdin, based on expected rate of decay, can you provide a timeframe for radioactive contamination?" Archer frowned once again. She shouldn't have to ask that question, Mahdin should have already been on it.

"Captain! I'm reading energy signatures deep underground." Both T'Pol and Archer turned to Mahdin. Archer was dying to tell T'Pol to take a look and confirm, he would trust it more with if she were the one giving the information. Almost as if she'd heard his thoughts, T'Pol approached the science station, looking over the readings on the console screens while Mahdin was looking into the scanner.

"What d'you make of it?" Archer asked.

She took a couple of minutes to consider. "Based on the nature of the radioactive matter and expected rate of decay, there seems to have been a disastrous environmental nuclear event approximately one hundred twenty-six point four years ago. The sensors cannot provide detailed information because of interference from unknown minerals in the planet crust but the energy levels are consistent with what would be expected from an industrial civilization, possibly warp-able."

Archer got up and came closer to the science console. "A warp civilization?" Even after all those years he hadn't lost his sense of excitement about first contacts.

As she caught the scent of his excitement, T'Pol felt necessary to remind him of less glorified possibilities. "The energy readings indicate massive amount of energy-production or use. If there were biosigns, I would presume this to be a city of some kind. The absence of biosigns is suspect. There should be at least a maintenance or operation crew. The possibility that our sensors cannot penetrate the outer crust and detect biosigns is remote considering they are reading the energy source."

"There could be pockets of survivors hiding from the surface and living a marginal existence." Archer proposed, thinking of the colonists on Terra Nova.

"The odds of their survival are extremely low. We found the survivors of Terra Nova after seventy years and they were on the brink of extinction. Any survivors on this planet would have had to survive high doses of radiation for a hundred and twenty-six years, which seems highly unlikely."

"Could it be that this is a species that is impervious to the radiation?" Travis asked.

T'Pol's vand turned towards him. "In that case, one would expect to find signs of life on the surface, or barring that, around the current energy source. Sensor readings indicate the energy source is quite large in scale, the size of a small city. Which makes the absence of biosigns even more puzzling."

"Unless the energy readings _are_ the biosigns." Mahdin chimed in. There was a pause as everyone digested the thought. "Or it could be a natural phenomenon," he added nervously.

"But you don't believe it is…" Archer prodded T'Pol.

"I do not have enough information for a conjecture."

"In that case, we have to go down and check." Archer was mentally rubbing his hands at the opportunity.

"Captain!" T'Pol commanded his attention. "We know nothing of this world other than it seemed to have been struck by a massive nuclear catastrophe over a hundred years ago and there is an off-the-scale power reading from somewhere deep in the planet's crust. I advise utmost caution. We need to gather additional information."

Sometimes Archer found Vulcan prudence to be claustrophobic. This was one of those times. All he wanted to do was go explore, not worry about every small thing that could go wrong. "We're not going to land on the surface, just take a quick look-around, see if we can find anything, an entrance, or even people. We'll be back on Enterprise in no time."

"May I remind you that we have encountered sentient machines in the past, when we rescued the Tarkalean freighter.[8] This could be one of their artifacts. The danger is too great."

"Not if we don't get out of the shuttle. We're going down. You'll monitor the situation from Enterprise. Those are my orders."

T'Pol didn't respond. With the vand, he couldnt see her eyes or facial expressions anymore, which was weirdly different and impersonal. He wondered how Trip was dealing with it. He turned to Travis.

"Travis, get a shuttle ready. Mahdin, provide the coordinates for the energy source. Trip, I need you with me, you can figure out how we could get access. Reed, get two MACOs and join us. Everyone in their enviro suit. Hoshi, take the bridge."

The captain was back in his element, exulting at the upcoming adventure or he would have noticed his chief engineer was not smiling. Trip hated it when Archer pulled rank over T'Pol like he just had. Jonathan was his friend through and through and nobody could claim being perfect but Jonathan's imperfections were sometimes quite glaring. At times like these, he felt deeply embarrassed for him. It was a good thing Vulcan had a strictly hierarchical society and T'Pol didn't take much offense from anything Archer did. Sometimes he actually thought she looked at him as one would an intriguing lab specimen.

Archer turned to T'Pol as they were all leaving the bridge. "We'll make sure to take plenty of sensor readings." That was as much of a peace offering as she'd ever get. "Sorry you can't come with us, next time. I'll make sure Phlox takes you off the DL."

It was not the time to ask what 'the DL' meant. "Of course, Captain." T'Pol replied. She was watching Trip leave the bridge. He hesitated at the door of the turbolift and looked back at her. She raised an eyebrow, hoping he could see it above the vand. As illogically as he may currently be behaving, any away-mission entailed a fair measure of risk and she would not let him leave thinking that he was bereft of her approval. In response, the hand that rested on the frame of the turbolift door fanned out twice in rapid succession in a silent good-bye.

Perhaps it was not illogical that she should find it so pleasing. He was her mate after all, someone she would kill for, or to protect. Nor was it illogical to wish he would want her to remain with him on Enterprise.

xx

Hoshi looked at the shuttle descend to the planet. Once it breached the upper layer of the atmosphere, they would lose sight under the dense layer of clouds obscuring the surface. She nervously chewed on her lower lip, thinking of Malcolm and praying for his safe return.

She looked over at T'Pol who was at Mahdin's side, monitoring the path of the shuttle. Without Malcolm on the bridge Hoshi felt strangely vulnerable, as if an eerie wind was blowing on the back of her neck. She wanted to call a replacement for him but found herself strangely ignorant of other people in his department. The XO would remind her of the roster of available personnel and she looked fixedly at T'Pol, trying to impress on her that she would really like to talk to her, without bringing everyone's attention to it. Then she realized that even if she couldn't see T'Pol's face behind the vand, T'Pol could see her. She gave her a come-hither look, laughing inwardly at the fact T'Pol would have no idea what a come-hither look was.

Soon T'Pol was standing at Hoshi's elbow. "Who should be manning the weapons station while Lieutenant Reed is away?" Hoshi whispered to her. What she really wanted to say was that even after her experience with the Nausicaan pirates she was anxious about having the control of the ship and she needed all of T'Pol's experience and expertise at her fingertips.

"Lieutenant Reed has always been complimentary of crew member Dulanski." T'Pol softly said, and Hoshi nodded. Malcolm held Martina in great respect, too great sometimes as far as she was concerned.

"Will that be all?" The edge of a raised eyebrow showed over the vand.

Hoshi flushed, feeling as if T'Pol had just read through her. "Yes, thank you. Make sure to let all of us know what's going on with the shuttle." She added for lack of a better thing to say. And wished she hadn't as T'Poll graciously answered "That was my intention," with a tone that said it was illogical to state the obvious. Somehow, TPol always managed to cut her down to size.

xx

The new standard shuttles may be bigger than the shuttlepods, but five men and one MACO woman in environmental suits still pushed the confines of the tolerable. Archer hit the com. "Shuttle to Enterprise, we're going through the cloud layer."

"Enterprise here" Hoshi's voice was scratchy, as if coming over a great distance. "We have lost visual but we're tracking you on the sensors."

"Roger. We'll contact you again in twenty minutes." Archer may have shot T'Pol down but she had been proven right enough times that he had decided to reinforce their safety procedures. They would be in almost constant contact with Enterprise.

The shuttle banked below the cloud cover onto a landscape that was eerily grotesque, entire slabs of mountains that looked like they had been thrown helter-skelter like chips in some demonic game, many looking as if they were melting into unnatural cones. The entire landscape was black and brown, the vitrified rocks shining like a molten lake. Trip gave a low whistle. "What happened down there?" He made sure the sensors were recording everything that could be recorded, mindful that his scientist wife would not want anything less. The shuttle flew past flat-topped hills that looked mowed down by a giant scythe.

"Any sign of life, anything?" Archer was seated next to Travis.

Trip shook his head, then carefully shook his helmet from side to side to indicate he was shaking his head. "Dead as a doornail, if you ask me." As far as he was concerned, they came, they saw, they could leave. There was nothing around here that would indicate any life or the possibility of life.

"We're not quite at the coordinates for the energy source." Travis replied. Trip shot him a dark look, then a meaningful look at Malcolm. He could see Malcolm nod slightly in return through his faceplate. That made two of them who were not keen on exploring further. Trip couldn't explain why, but the whole place gave him the hibby jibbies. It was hard to look at the devastation around and not imagine a more peaceful time, where the mountains were standing like mountains and the area they were surveying could have been a plain or a sea. He couldn't imagine any planet naturally looking like this one did.

Archer was looking in the distance, where black cliffs bordered the lower laying areas they were flying over. "That's where the energy source is," he said, half-turned towards Travis. The helmsman nodded his helmet and the shuttle banked further to approach the cliffs in a parallel curve. The face of the cliff was the same glossy black rock as what was strewn all around.

"There's no entrance." They heard Travis comment over the mike.

Trip was looking into the sensors interface. "Reading a massive energy source." He got up halfway to stare out the window, encumbered by the enviro suit. "Based on the sensors, it is inside that cliff, or underneath it."

"There's nothing there." Archer replied. It was all rock.

Nobody saw the cliff face pull down like a curtain while the flat top peeled back, revealing an array of surface-to-air missile launchers pointing ferociously at the sky and the shuttle.

The explosion just to their right was the first inkling that something was amiss. "Missile launchers!" Reed yelled over his mike. More explosions shook the air sounds then, buffering the vessel and making Travis strain against the sudden air pockets.

"They're firing at us!" Travis yelled back, as if that was not obvious enough.

"Travis, can you beat them?! Evasive maneuvers!" Archer was ready to jump on the shuttle controls himself.

"They're trying to lock onto us! Travis, get us out of here!" Reed bellowed at the same time.

As if the words made direct contact with his brain, Travis gloved fingers played on the console and the shuttle took a nose dive, banked to the right, then stabilized again. Shots fired to the left of the craft missed and rocked the vessel sharply. Trip saw Malcolm turn green in his suit. He was not sure which color he was himself. Only Archer and Travis showed no signs of having their vestibular system upset by the sudden sharp changes of direction. That must be why they were both pilots.

"They're still trying to lock onto us!" The banks of missiles launchers were spread along the entire cliff. How many miles of those things were there exactly? This was not a defensive set-up, it was a wall of anti-aircraft canons. And the shuttle was the fly on that wall.

"Travis, we need to shake them!" Archer was grim, hanging on to the dashboard console with gloved hands while the helmsman tried to find a path away from the guns. The canons were adjusting their aim as quickly as he could change course, the rapid staccato of fireballs erupting all around a sign that they were closing in on them.

"They've got a lock!" Reed yelled in the mike. They saw Travis hesitate for a second, and then he threw the shuttle on a vertical line straight up to the sky, as if it were a rocket trying to escape the planet's gravity. Next to him, Archer's cry of "What are you doing?!" was covered by the fierce shaking of the craft as the laws of physics reasserted themselves. All around the shuttle, a field of fireballs were in various stages of eruption, the ordnance falling back to the ground in shining arcs, unable to follow the shuttle in its vertical thrust. Even through the enviro suits, they could all hear the sudden silence that fell in the cabin. The engines had stalled, unable to get enough air flow. The shuttle started falling back to the ground like a leaden weight, flat on its back, hurtling to its doom at speeds that defeated the tracking technology of the missile launchers. Trip tensed up, waiting for the painful final impact with the ground. Reed next to him looked too sick to care.

Just before the shuttle met the ground in a fiery crash Travis rolled it back on its belly and fired the engines. The shuttle streaked away under the fire of the canons, low to the ground. It took a few seconds before the rocket launchers adjusted their aim, seconds which Travis put to use to get as far away as fast as he could. Finally, the explosions were popping up like flowers in the sky behind them, too far to rock the ship.

Inside the shuttle, sweat was streaming over Travis's face and he kept blinking to try and chase it away. That was a drawback of the enviro suits, you couldn't reach out and wipe your brow. Archer leaned towards him and awkwardly patted his shoulder with a suited arm. "Good job, Travis, good job." He too was drenched with sweat. "Let's get back to Enterprise, on the double."

He turned back to the five crewmen looking pale as ghosts in their own suits. Nobody was talking, each gingerly checking they were still alive. Archer hit the intercom. "Enterprise, we're coming back. As soon as we're on board, go to red alert." He didn't know what else the planet had in store for them but he wasn't going to wait and find out.

* * *

[8] Regeneration


	28. Contagion 28 Creepy Crawlers

Hoshi shut off the com, looking in puzzlement at T'Pol. At the last check-in the captain was raring to go explore and now they were back? She noted that T'Pol looked pale, as if she had seen a ghost. She remembered seeing her stiffen at the science station, seeming to listen to an inner voice, then relax slightly right before Archer contacted them.

"Crewman Dulanski, get ready to go to red alert. Bring canons in line right now." There was no point waiting. If something had freaked out Archer down there, they were not going to wait passively until he came back on board.

"Captain Sato! We are getting a strange reading from the planet." Hoshi sat in shock. Did T'Pol call her captain? She must have wanted to make sure she had Hoshi's attention. And boy did she ever. Hoshi felt the blood rush through her in warning.

"What do you mean?" Hoshi walked to where T'Pol and Mahdin were intently staring at the console. T'Pol's looked up and Hoshi found herself staring straight into the vand. "There is a massive energy build-up on the planet. Origin undetermined. In close proximity to the previous energy source." Mahdin stepped away from the scanner, letting his commanding officer replace him. Hoshi noticed with surprise that T'Pol didn't seem to have any difficulty looking into the scanner. She had always assumed Mahdin or whomever was still there because T'Pol was not fully functional, even with the vand. But there were more pressing issues to worry about than whether T'Pol was looking into the scanner.

Hoshi turned to Travis' replacement. "Wojda, how far is the shuttle?"

"They'll be aboard in three minutes."

T'Pol's voice interrupted. "Directed energy flare from the planet! Helmsman, evasive action!"

Wojda turned back to his console, but it was too late. The ship shook as the pulse of energy from the planet hit it, throwing everyone on the floor.

Hoshi quickly got back to her feet. "Battle stations!" She wasn't sure what was going on but the ship didn't feel right.

"All weapons online." Dulanski confirmed.

T'Pol was already back at the science station while Mahdin was getting back to his feet. "Weapons will be ineffective. We have been grabbed by a massive tractor beam coming from the planet. I suggest we throw the engines in reverse."

Hoshi was on it before she finished speaking. "Bridge to Engineering!"

"Hess here. What hap-"

"Don't worry what happened. Bring the engines in reverse! Put everything you can in it!"

She sat tensely as Wojda started calling out their speed, the speed at which they would have been leaving the planet if they were not held in place by the massive energy beam. "Impulse power one, impulse power two." Nothing happened, the ship was still being dragged, though more slowly. Finally Wojda called "Maximum impulse power."

That stopped them moving. Hoshi opened the com to Engineering and was greeted by Hannah cursing a blue streak. "Hess to Bridge. I can't go to warp with the strain they're putting on the system or the ship will explode. If we stay at maximum impulse we're going to fry the engines. Then we'll have nothing left."

Hoshi looked at T'Pol, still bent over her console. After a few seconds the Vulcan looked up, speaking in Hoshi's direction. "We can reduce our speed to impulse five point six seven. That will optimize the amount of time we can fight against the tractor beam but we will keep being dragged." She turned to Wojda. "Where is the shuttle?"

"Still three minutes away." Hoshi realized that the ship had been pulled away as the shuttle was approaching. Hopefully Travis had noticed and adjusted.

The com rang just then. "Archer to Enterprise. Why are you moving away?"

"Hoshi here, Captain. We're caught in a massive tractor beam originating from the planet. Can you get back on board?"

"We'll do whatever it takes." Offline, they heard Archer instructing Travis to push the engines, then Trip advising the pilot how to get even more speed.

"Wojda, aft screen!" she called. On the screen, the shuttle sped up even as they were being dragged away. It was almost a minute before it became apparent that they would make it.

The com rang suddenly again. "Archer to Enterprise. Something was just fired from the planet. Opposite angle from you. You can't see it yet." At that exact moment T'Pol called from the science station. "Oncoming projectile. Dulanski, maximum power to ventral shields. Impact in nine minutes."

"Aye, sir."

"Any idea what is coming at us?" Hoshi asked. T'Pol shook her head without looking up. "The sensors are reading energy matter." She paused, this time looked up, her voice trailing "Biosigns..." Was the planet firing people at them? Hoshi looked in stupefaction at T'Pol, who was already back staring at the console. "Impact in eight minutes." The Vulcan called emotionlessly.

Hoshi sighed. This was not a good day. First a tractor beam and now something being fired at them, they didn't know what, and they couldn't escape, held as they were in the tractor beam. "T'Pol, any idea where the tractor beam is taking us?"

The Vulcan had a ready answer, as if she'd figured it out a while ago already and was just waiting for someone to think about asking. "Based on the vector and angle of the tractor beam, we are being dragged to the planet surface."

"To the planet surface?" But this would destroy the ship, if it didn't burn its occupants as they entered the atmosphere. "Can we launch the shuttles or escape pods?" If they couldn't save the ship, could she at least save her crew?

"Impact in seven minutes." T'Pol replied, before adding "The shuttles would be caught in the tractor beam also. Though we do not know if it is strong enough to pull Enterprise and the shuttles, we have to assume that a beam strong enough to hold us at maximum impulse speed would. The escape pods may not be able to escape the tractor beam either. One option would be -"

She was interrupted by Archer running onto the bridge with Trip, Reed and Travis, all still in their enviro suits. Hoshi quickly stepped down from the chair. T'Pol stared at Archer coolly, as if he weren't standing there in a bulky survival suit, his hair slick with sweat, helmet in hand. "T'Pol, debrief!" he growled, peeling the rest of the suit off as she talked then signaling a bridge cadet to bring him a fresh uniform. When it came, he hesitated then pulled it on over his sweat stained undersuit. He had more pressing issues.

Meanwhile T'Pol was back where they had interrupted. "One option would be to release the escape pods from the aft. The beam might stop operating once the ship is down and the pods would resist re-entry." She didn't need to add that the survivors would be cooked by the radiation as soon as they came out of their pod.

Archer scowled. That wasn't an option. "We need to get Enterprise off."

"Impact in three minutes" was his First Officer's response. Archer glared at T'Pol, torn between annoyance that she was still counting and relief that she was still counting.

"Any idea what's in those projectiles?" Nothing like being held in place with an array of unknown weapons coming at you.

"A total of thirty projectiles were launched from the planet. Each one reads as a biosign. It is impossible to tell if they are weaponized."

Like a reverse escape pod. The thought crossed Archer's mind. Perhaps these biosigns were trying to get off the planet. If that were the case, Enterprise would be released from the tractor beam as soon as the projectiles got on board. But what about what or who was in those? If they were facing an invasion... "Are the MACOS ready?" he asked Reed.

"We have a dozen teams positioned throughout the ship. Armory is distributing weapons to all crew members."

"What about the bridge?"

"They should be on their way. Everyone is getting the standard MACO weapons, a phaser and a laser rifle."

Archer nodded. Malcolm knew what he was going.

"Two minutes to impact." T'Pol announced.

"The tractor beam is still dragging us?" Archer asked. He knew that T'Pol and Mahdin were working on it.

"We're still being dragged." Travis confirmed.

The doors to the turbo lift opened and crewmen walked in with weapons, proceeding to hand them out. T'Pol accepted hers, ignoring the man's hesitation as he obviously wondered if she should get one. "Impact in one minute." She called emotionlessly. Travis turned around to look uncertainly at the rest of the bridge crew. He couldn't believe this was happening. Hoshi was staring fixedly at the planet, as if it could help stop their descent.

"Shields up?" There was nothing more they could do.

"Fore and ventral shields are at 100%." Reed answered. "The cluster has a broad dispersion angle. We cannot focus them as tightly as we'd like." Next to him, Dulanski nodded. He had asked her to stay, they could use the help.

Everybody fell silent, waiting in tense expectation. Archer got up from his chair, wanting to pounce. Reed was looking all around. Trip was frowning at the display of engine power on his console. Mahdin was glued to the science scanner.

The ship shook as the first pods hit the shields. "Shields at 60%" Reed called. He looked up, blanching. "I don't know what it is, the drain on the shields is enormous." More shaking followed as more of the projectiles hit, each time seeming to fizzle against the shields before going dark. "Shields at 20%." More hits. "Shields are buckling!"

"They broke through the shields!" Mahdin yelled at the same moment. They felt the bump of something against the outer hull. More bumps followed in quick succession. Then silence fell. The impact was anticlimactic. Everyone on the bridge was looking all around, trying to guess what had happened.

"Where are they?" Archer finally asked.

"The projectiles have latched on the outside of the ship." T'Pol answered.

"Travis, get us a shot of the outside of the ship!" On the screen, they could see what looked like pods stuck to the ship.

"How many do we have?" It reminded Archer of the Romulan mine that had anchored itself to the ship years before.

"There are a total of ten pods affixed to the outer hull." T'Pol replied.

"They're not mines." Reed commented, obviously thinking about the Romulan minefield. He reflexively started stroking his thigh at the memory.

"You said you read biosigns?" Archer directed the question at T'Pol.

"The pods have an organic signature." She replied. "We do not know if there is organic material inside or if the pods themselves are organic." Archer looked up at her then stared at the pods imbedded on the skin of the ship. He was getting a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"They're moving!" Travis yelled.

Archer whipped around. "What do you mean they're moving?"

"The pods are moving!" Reed confirmed in turn.

"T'Pol! What are those?!" She was hunched over the console, brought her head up. She said a couple of words to Mahdin and stepped aside while he leaned in turn over the screens. She stood facing Archer, hands behind her back, seeming to look at the main screen though he couldn't see her face behind the vand. "Computer, show us images taken one hundred and eighty seconds ago _._ " That was when the pods hit. "Now superimpose images taken two seconds ago." They could see each of the pods had moved a few yards.

"Where are they going?" Trip asked. Nobody answered. They were all mesmerized by the slowly crawling pods that may or may not be alive. "Perhaps they're the planet's idea of cockroaches?" Trip was rolling his tongue against his cheek.

Archer shot a dark look at Trip while T'Pol's eyebrows indicated she was nonplussed. "Not funny, Commander." Hoshi stifled a nervous guffaw, earning herself another glare from Archer and another eyebrow from T'Pol. Archer glanced at T'Pol. "Later." He'd let her husband do the explaining.

"Reed, anything we can do to shake them off?" Archer was not happy. First his ship was held hostage by some tractor beam and now they had organic things crawling all over it. It was enough to develop a phobia.

The security officer shook his head. "If we fire at them, we risk breaching the hull."

"We could try an electric surge to the outer hull." Trip suggested.

Archer whipped around to T'Pol. "Any chance that could work?"

"We cannot know for sure if this would disrupt the organic matrix. But until we can examine the pods more carefully the idea has merit."

That was a rare accolade. "Trip, get to it. See who can help you. But don't leave the bridge. I need every hand on deck." He turned to T'Pol. "When are we crashing on the planet surface?"

"Based on the current drag rate and assuming engines remain functional throughout, we will make landfall in seventeen point six hours."

Archer sighed. Peachy. Just peachy. Things crawling all over and seventeen hours to their death. Unless the tractor beam released them whenever those crawlies reached their destination. No matter the angle, not a pretty picture.

xx

"This is Captain Archer to the crew. As per prior instructions, make sure you're at least two feet away from the inner hull. Do not, I repeat, do not touch the hull. We'll alert you when it's over." Archer turned to Trip, gave a brisk nod.

"Here goes. If this doesn't fry them, nothing will." Trip drawled, punching a code sequence on his console and activating the routine that would redirect the ionized charge from the engines to the hull, turning Enterprise into a nice electric zapper.

They followed on the main screen as shots of lightning started fizzling around the pods. Nothing seemed to happen. The pods remained otherwise undisturbed. After a couple of minutes, Archer asked the bridge "Anything?"

Mahdin looked over at T'Pol, shaking his head. Archer noticed she had not been at the science console for a few minutes now, got the distinct impression she had reached some type of physical limit. On the screen the pods seemed unaffected. Minutes crept by.

"Captain, the drain on the engines is reaching a critical level. We're going to need to lower our speed. That will increase our drag rate." Trip called to Archer.

"Shut it off. Now!" Archer wasn't going to give up one more yard than he had to.

"We have a pod at an airlock." T'Pol calmly announced, as if it were an everyday event. "Deck E, third airlock." Obviously the electric charge had had little effect.

Reed hit the intercom "Security team to Deck E, Airlock 3-TS!"

Archer looked at T'Pol with dawning understanding. "That's where they were moving to! Trip, get us the cameras for that airlock! Reed, can we prevent access?!"

The security chief shook his head. "Everything we've done so far has been unsuccessful. And we can't risk using heavy weapons and causing a hull breach."

That was not what Archer wanted to hear. He slammed the arm of his chair, earning himself a couple of jumps and two eyebrows. He ruefully eyed his bridge crew. He needed them to figure out how to get away from the tractor beam and he needed them to prevent the pods-whatever from getting on Enterprise. Each required different set of skills. His decision was made.

"Trip, take the bridge, you and T'Pol try and see what we can do about the tractor beam. Reed, with me to Deck-E." They left at a run. Trip was already at the science station, ready to help T'Pol and Mahdin pore over everything, see if perhaps there was a mechanical solution.

"Cockroaches?" she softly said as he came by. So she had found time to check the reference. He smiled at her. "Seems like the only thing that could still be alive." He whispered back. The eyebrow over the vand eloquently expressed what she thought of the idea.


	29. Contagion 29 Desperate Droids

xx

Archer and Reed turned the corner at a run and stopped right behind the wall of MACOs waiting for the pod occupants to come out. Or whatever was in the process of cutting through the thick airlock door, the outline of some kind tool glowing through the vacuum-resistant reinforced slab of steel. Obviously the pod people, or whatever they were, had advanced technology.

Archer turned to Wiggins. "They're docked, right?" The man nodded, understanding that the question was whether there would be a sudden depressurization. He said something but the buzz of the high-powered tool drowned his voice. Before Archer could ask him to repeat, the door peeled back from the center in ripped petals of steel and something stepped through. The entire MACO team braced against the walls of the corridors, phaser-rifle at the ready, aiming straight at what stepped through. Which looked like a small brown-plated armadillo.

But the plates started moving, somehow sliding over each other and the armadillo straightened into a towering android, complete with mechanical facial features. The overlapping plates draped the tall robot with a cape-like exoskeleton. There was no mistaking the power of the engineered being but thankfully it was not a borg. The androids didn't look even remotely like the half human machines Enterprise had once encountered.

Archer stepped in front of the invader. "I am Captain Archer of the Starfleet vessel Enterprise. You are trespassing on my ship. Who are you and what do you want?"

The android turned to him. Behind him another three androids came out of the pod, each emerging as a footed cube before unfolding into a towering specimen. The android hissed something at him in an undecipherable language. Archer thought about Hoshi but she was on the bridge.

"Who are you?" Archer repeated. "What do you want?"

There were a variety of sounds and beeps coming from the androids. At his side, Reed whispered. "They may need more from us to establish a language database." He had a vague memory about that being required though he couldn't place it.[9]

Archer glanced at him, turned back to the android. "We are a ship of exploration. We come in peace. Our shuttle was attacked when we went down to learn more about your planet. There is a tractor beam holding my ship. I demand that you release the tractor beam and let us go. We present no threat to you."

That was enough material for the robot linguistics programming. After a few more beeps and hisses, the android started speaking in Standard.

"We are the troops of the Eschalion. You are an enemy ship of the Tradem. You will be taken as prisoners of war."

"Prisoners of war? What war? We are not an enemy ship of the Tradem. Your planet was devastated in a war but there are no signs of activity for at least one hundred and twenty six years."

"All enemy ships must be destroyed. All enemy combatants must be taken prisoner. Your ship will be destroyed and you will be taken prisoner."

"Hold on a second." There were few things that Archer found more infuriating than arguing with a robot. "We are _not_ enemy combatants. We are not Tradems or whatever you call them. We are representatives of the Federation of Planets on a peaceful mission of exploration. Your planet suffered a major environmental catastrophe over a hundred years ago. Did the Tradems live there?"

The android made a variety of hissing sounds that were echoed by the other four. Then it brought its attention back to Archer. "The planet does not belong to the Tradems. It is the agreed place of combat. We are the troops of the Eschalion. The Tradems must be destroyed. There can be no mercy."

"Who are the Eschalions?" Reed asked.

The android turned to him. "The Eschalions are our creators and masters. We are their troops. We must defeat the Tradems by any means. The Eschalions must be victorious."

Archer eyed the android. "What do you mean 'by any means'?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Who destroyed the planet?"

"We made the Eschalions victorious. There are no more Tradems. The Tradems must be destroyed. You are Tradem. You must be destroyed."

"And where are the Eschalions?" Archer had a feeling he already knew.

"There are no more Eschalions. Organic life forms are imperfect."

Reed threw a sharp look at Archer. Imperfect life forms. Somehow it didn't bode well for any of them.

The android seemed to have reached the end of its question and answer subprogram. " We must reach the command center. Your ship must be destroyed. You are prisoners of war. We must reach the command center." The other androids fell in line behind it, all seeming to follow some inner directional routine. Archer stepped in front to stop them and was swept away by a mechanical arm, landing dazed against the inner hull.

Reed and Wiggins had their rifles drawn. "Stop!" barked Wiggins. "Stop or I'll fire!" There was no response. He fired a stun charge into the chest of the nearest android, with very little effect. In response, all four androids morphed their arms into laser guns and started firing blindly. The MACOs quickly took cover, returning the fire. At least the androids were not advancing further down the corridor.

Reed had run to Archer, was helping him to his feet. "Hold them there!" Archer yelled at the MACOs. "Reed, to the bridge." They took off at a run.

"What do you think happened?" Reed asked once they reached the turbolift.

"Beyond the obvious?" Archer was scowling. "Hard to say but if the Eschalions and the Tradems didn't destroy each other, I have a feeling the robots destroyed them both."

Reed nodded grimly. "And they're going to destroy us too, given half a chance."

"We won't give them a chance, or even half of one. We can't let them reach the bridge." Archer's jaw was set.

xx

T'Pol, Mahdin and Trip didn't look up from the science console when Archer and Reed barged back onto the bridge. "Anything new?" Archer came over to check while Reed started working with Dulanski at setting up a defense perimeter.

"We have found a way to recalibrate the sensors around the mineral interference." T'Pol responded. "Once that is achieved, we can find out more about the energy source." Trip was nodding next to her. "Hopefully, we'll figure out some chink in their armor." Addressing T'Pol before the eyebrow went up. "I'll explain."

"How long? Our friends the droids are on their way to the bridge."

"Droids?" Trip was incredulous.

"I guess you haven't been looking at the camera feed. Those pods on the hull are full of little things that turn into large androids. There are four of them on deck E, trying to come to the bridge." He turned to T'Pol. "How many of those crawling things still on the outer hull?"

"There are nine pods on the hull. Based on the behavior of the first one, they are all aiming for the airlocks. At their current rate of locomotion the next closest one is twenty-four minutes away from airlock 3-PL. The one after that is aiming back to airlock 3-SL and will reach it in an hour and six minutes."

"Any way you can figure how to destroy the energy source in the next twenty-three minutes?"

"The sensors will finish recalibrating in twelve point three minutes, Captain. There is no guaranty as to how quickly Commander Tucker and I can identify a weakness in the traction system or in the energy source." The tip of an eyebrow over the vand alerted him to the fact it was a tall order.

"I'm confident you will." Archer ignored the other eyebrow's astonishment. He had a sudden inspiration. "Trip, do you think the energy source down below is also feeding the robots?"

"They do have to take their energy from somewhere." Trip was thinking. "They can't have lasted over a hundred years just on batteries. From an engineering perspective, the most efficient build would be to share a common energy source, so yes, it's highly likely they all feed at the same source. But," he hastened to add when he saw Archer's face light with hope, "that doesn't tell us how much autonomy they have when they're cut off from the source."

"We'll just have to hope it's less than seventeen hours."

"Sixteen point four hours." Of course, T'Pol would be counting. "Probabilities are that it is less. The change from one form to another is quite energy intensive."

The chair intercom beeped, calling Archer away from the science console huddle. He rushed to open the line. "Bridge here!"

"Wiggins here, sir. We're now in corridor EM-2. We have three teams of MACOs with us but the droids have increased their fire power and we're steadily losing ground."

"We need another half-hour here. Can you hold them that long?"

"We're gonna try, Captain."

"Let me know when you get close. Archer out." Archer exhaled, looked at Reed who had been deep in conversation with Dulanski. He came over. "I've taken all the turbolifts offline, though something tells me that won't stop them. We could have the MACOs try something but it's dangerous for the ship."

"It's already dangerous for the ship, Lieutenant. Any idea is welcome."

"Based on what I've seen, I think we could take them down with a hand-held plasma mine launcher." Archer looked at Reed, speechless. He had to be kidding. A hand-held launcher, in the confines of a ship? That could mean a hole in the hull, depressurization, lost lives.

"The MACOs are excellent shots," Reed was going on. "Or I wouldn't even propose it. There's a 98% chance they'll make contact, especially in close quarters."

"And if they don't, the androids get sucked out..." Archer's voice trailed.

Reed nodded. "That'd be a bonus. There'd be some loss of life but the ship will survive." He could see the wheels turning in Archer's head. "It's kind of like what we did with the borgs."

Archer nodded mutely. It was a crazy risk but it was worth it. "How do we do it?"

"I can get to the armory deck through the vertical access hatch, bypass where the droids are. I'll pick up as many as I can carry and wait for the MACOs here." Reed was showing the intersection of corridors ER-1 and EL-1 on the inside map.

"I'm the one who should go, Captain." Dulanski pleaded. "My post is at the armory."

Reed whipped around on her. "I am the superior officer, it is my duty to go."

"Sorry, Reed, I won't back you up on this. I need you on the bridge. Dulanski, please be careful."

"I have every intention of that, sir." Martina left quickly. Reed looked pale, his lips pinched. Archer leaned forward. "I need the best people with me or we're all dead." Reed nodded stiffly. That was not how it should go down.

"The sensors are on line." T'Pol called from the science station. Archer straightened up, casting a sidelong glance at the chair intercom as he walked over. So long as it didn't beep, he could believe that perhaps the MACOs were winning the fight. As he was approaching the science station, Hoshi swiveled around. "Captain?"

"Yes, Hoshi."

"Your point about disrupting their energy feed... I assume they're also getting commands from the energy source. Perhaps we can disrupt their communication system, make them unable to talk to the mother ship. It may not be as effective as destroying the energy source itself but it could gain us time."

"Brilliant, Hoshi. Get to it."

"We should have the first read from the sensors in six minutes and three seconds, Ensign. I'll patch them to your station."

"Thanks!" Hoshi flashed a quick smile at T'Pol.

xx

Wiggins swore as his leg buckled under him. He was simply lucky that he had managed to avoid the android fire until now. The MACOs were making a desperate effort to hold the robots at bay, but they kept being forced to retreat. In another fifty yards, they would be at the turbolift, and then the droids could access the bridge.

From the corner of his eye, he saw something behind the MACO team on his right. "Chang!" he called over the sounds of the lasers. Chang looked up, then seeing Wiggins point to the back, turned around just as Martina was running down the hall with an armload of - he whistled softly. Shit! They were not kidding around. He picked up one of the launchers, nodding his gratitude at her, quickly armed it and checked that the ammo was in. He gave a thumbs up at Wiggins and the two of them coordinated their action, Wiggins gloved hand flashing high up over his head, three fingers, two fingers, one finger, then the ok sign.

And Chang lunged in the open corridor, checking his aim a glance, firing, rolling away from the laser fire that followed him to the other side. There was the sound of an explosion, loud enough to stuff all their ears with cotton. Wiggins glanced around the corner, saw with satisfaction that one of the androids was a bunch of twisted metal and wires agitated with electric charges. This one wouldn't be an issue anymore.

The other four quickly dove back around the corner behind them. But at least they were not moving forward. For the time being. Wiggins' uniform patch beeped and he swatted the line open. "Yes." He said gruffly. He really didn't have time for an interruption.

"Capicco here. They're breaching airlock 3-PL."

Wiggins swore under his breath. There were now two beachheads. Hopefully the bridge would get a handle on things quickly. He didn't know how long they could hold. Even with the launchers.

xx

"Aliens at 3-PL." Travis announced soberly. There was no point getting excited. If there was one thing he had learned over the years with Archer and the rest of the bridge crew, it was to switch his nerves off when things got life-threateningly tense. Like about now. Not that he could do much anyway. He didn't even have to pilot the ship, they were just being dragged steadily along the most efficient entry vector. Robots. Of course they would have figured out the best way to take the ship down. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be dragged through the atmosphere, the infernal heat. Would he die before the windows blew out?

His morbid reverie was interrupted by the sounds of heavy footsteps rushing on the bridge. He turned to see six MACOs coming out of the turbolift with Martina, two of them holding what looked like bazookas.

Archer was already out of his chair. T'Pol and Trip briefly looked up, went back to reviewing sensor data with Mahdin and Hoshi. They couldn't afford to be distracted from their task.

"Wiggins?" Archer's question was an order.

"We've killed three of them, but there's still another five on the deck below. Chang is holding them off away from the turbolift. We came up to establish a defensive perimeter on the bridge." The MACOs posted themselves in a semi-arch by the turbolift door.

Archer walked to T'Pol. "Where is the next pod?'

"The next pod will be at airlock 3-TL in thirty-three minutes." Archer exhaled. There was no point pressuring the science team, they were well aware of the urgency. T'Pol traced a line on the screen with her finger, Trip shook his head. He had already considered and discarded the possibility. They were back to communicating without talking, the way they so often did. Archer noted T'Pol looked like she was sweating. He frowned. It couldn't be that she was hot, she was a Vulcan. And she had never shown signs of anxiety before. If they got out of this mess alive, he would check with Phlox.

Hoshi suddenly looked up from her station. "I found a way to block the transmission!"

"Do so, Hoshi."

"You are aware that the androids function autonomously, Ensign."

"Yes but they won't be able to get new orders. Who knows, that might destabilize them at a critical point."

"Logical."

Hoshi handed her earphones to Mahdin. "Here, put these on. Let me know when you no longer hear the signal."

"Captain!" Reed called out. "The lifts are coming back online!" He looked up at Archer in confusion.

At that moment the turbolift doors blew open, sending debris and smoke flying all around. The first android on the bridge was culled by one of the launchers and flew against the back of the turbolift. The next one strafed the bridge with rapid laser fire before he was felled. The third one threw some king of device in the air. The explosion was not powerful enough to breach the hull but flattened everyone in range as bellows of smoke filled the bridge.

The shockwave missed Reed, who had rushed to grab Wiggins' launcher the moment he saw him fall. He aimed wildly at the android, hitting it. He fired again at the turbolift, melting it into a solid mass, enough to delay the androids.

Archer had gotten back to his feet and was at the intercom, coughing and batting at the smoke around him. "Don't let them get to the bridge!" He yelled into the mike. They didn't have much more time. He teetered towards the science station and stopped in shock. Mahdin was sprawled over the science console and Trip had rolled halfway off onto the bridge deck, blood all over his chest. And he couldn't see T'Pol.

[9] Extinction.

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 _Hi everyone. We're in the home stretch! Thanks for staying with the story. A-_


	30. Contagion 30 Smoke, No Mirrors

The agony of the shot that felled Trip reverberated throughout T'Pol's chest. She laid on the floor, trying to re-orient herself after the deafening explosion. At least the vand didn't break. There was no time to lose. Her mate was wounded and she needed to get to him. Her higher cortical functions were functioning normally, reminding her that in order to save him she needed to save the ship. For the first time in her life she tried to shut her mind to the cool order of logic, the synaptic organization no longer so appealing. She wanted to rush to him but logic wouldn't let her. She saw Hoshi get up and stagger over to Trip, sit heavily by his side. Emergency first aid was second nature to the crew. Logic won the day.

She managed to get to her feet in spite of the psychic and physical pain of Trip's wound, hanging on to the console to right herself. She saw Archer look at her across the smoke and gave a quick nod to let him know she was fine. That was the wrong word. She would function because she had to but she was not fine. Trip was laying meters away, gravely wounded, and she was not tending to him. Fine would have been if her were standing at the console with her, fine would have been if she were kneeling by his side. Not being with him was not fine in any sense of the word.

She pushed Mahdin's body away from the console, possibly more harshly than was necessary. Her Human crew mates would not have approved of the brusque shove that sent his body bouncing on the deck. But she knew only one thing. To save Trip she needed to save the ship, and to save the ship she needed the console.

Behind her she heard Reed and Archer's exclamations, the soft counterpart to her own sharp urgency. They must have been talking to her, words floated all the way to where she was, captured by her ambient neural network while she brought the laser focus of her entire mind on the single goal of destroying the energy source. 'Vertical access shaft... seventeen minutes...' Her mind initiated the countdown even as she worked, each second a rhythmic counterpart to the heartbeat of her mate echoing through the bond. She would destroy the energy source. Then she would destroy the androids. They had hurt her t'hyla and for that they must pay. They would pay. She saluted the millennia of pre-Awakening savagery that made that truth self-proving, the barbarians whose DNA echoed through her veins.

She leaned over the sensor readings, ignoring the pain that permeated her entire body from the prolonged focused use of the vand. She could no longer block it. Blocking the pain would mean blocking Trip and she needed to know he was still alive. Through the vand, she looked at the charts and sensor readings flashing on the console screens, the edge distortion lancing shards of pain in her brain that made her sheen with sweat as she carefully reviewed the results. Fifty-one long minutes already they had pored over them without finding the critical answer. She needed to go faster.

Faster. She suddenly remembered the vand could show everything at once. It had blanked her mind the first time but there may be a way to increase the output and stay short of a complete black-out. She knew where the echolocation device was plugged on the outside of the vand. If she increased the connection capacity she could see more at once, perhaps notice something that wouldn't show otherwise. She would need to shore up her mental defenses, maintain a fine balance with the speed of input. She felt around the vand until she found the echolocation plug, pulled it out while closing her eyes, feeling with her fingers and pulling out one, then two pins. She roughly computed this would speed things up without overwhelming her, amazed that she should proceed on such insufficient information. But there was Trip. She plugged the echolocation device back on, hesitated a couple of seconds, then opened her eyes.

The sensation was unlike anything she'd seen before, the screen swimming into waves of nausea as every detail on the console jumped up all at once. It was still too much, the images pressing on her mind in an unfiltered chaos that made her lurch and stumble, but she didn't black out. She felt cold all over as rivulets of sweat descended her arms, her body overheating as her mind tried to process the myriad of details in the cloud of information. The pressure on her visual centers chased reflexive tears down her cheeks. The physical discomfort was torture but it was all there, everything she needed to focus on.

There was a commotion on the other side of the bridge. She didn't take notice, she couldn't take notice, her mind overfilled with information. In there somewhere, there were connection points yet unseen, a clue to a dormant fault in the energy source. Words filtered over to her, captured by her ambient system. 'They're coming up the shaft' 'Find a way to stop them, lieutenant' 'T'Pol!' She didn't answer, there was no time. And then, suddenly she saw it, the answer, right there, so self-evident it was screaming its import to anyone who would listen. That was it.

She looked up, looked over through the clearing smoke towards where Reed should be. "Lieutenant Reed!" She called. He couldn't hear her from where he was by the access hatch in the back-room, waiting in ambush with Archer for any android that would make its way there. Hoshi heard her though and left her protective watch over Trip to fleet-foot over to Reed. He looked towards the unseen science station, handed her his launcher with a nod and a word for fast aim and good luck and trotted over. As he approached, he saw Trip's unconscious form in his bloodied uniform and swallowed hard. Then he was at T'Pol side, nodding more and more emphatically as she went over the solution, and what he had to do.

In no time he was at this station squeezing minutes into fractions as he loaded the software.. "Torpedoes ready." He finally called to her.

"Remember not to launch them." She quickly fed him the coordinates.

"Yeah, yeah, just placing them in with the garbage." Reed replied. If the torpedoes were launched, they would be known as weapons and the planetary defense system would destroy them. If they floated around like detritus from the 'enemy ship' Enterprise, a burp of the cleaning system as it were, the tractor beam would bring them to the planet surface along with the ship, not bothering to filter what would be incinerated in the landing process. The computer guidance system embedded in their noses would do the rest. "Releasing torpedoes." All of them. If this worked, they would have no heavy artillery left but they would still have a ship. All-in-all not a bad trade.

T'Pol was bent over the science scanner. While Reed let go of the torpedoes there had been time to reset the echolocation device. The pain stealing her breath was the familiar pain of visual distortion. She waited. If she were right, the black dots of the missiles would separate from the body of the ship, dragged by the same Newtonian force but much lighter and defenseless. The pain was distracting and she tensed all her muscles for continued focus. Seconds ticked by, hypothesis turning to proof turning to pleasure as the oblong shapes overtook the ship then streaked ahead, Enterprise falling further and further behind while the unencumbered torpedoes readily answered the call to the planet and the energy source below.

"Impact in twelve minutes." The speed of the torpedoes would accelerate until it matched the pull of the tractor beam.

Reed looked back towards the back access shaft. Even in the best of cases, that was about six minutes longer than they had. The smoke was starting to clear. Another pod had latched on to airlock 3-SL, spewing even more androids to contend with. The next one was on its way, the MACO forces spread thin between three fronts, their numbers steadily decreasing as that of the androids increased. With the smoke cleared, he could see a good portion of the bridge crew lying where their functions had been interrupted by the strafing android. How many of them were still clinging to life? Once the robots reached the bridge, it would be a moot point. All organic life forms were imperfect. The androids were sure to uncover the torpedo ruse and Enterprise would be lost with the rest of its crew.

A loud report let him know things were heating up over in the back room. T'Pol was still hunched over the scanner, would be there until the end, sweet or not. Hoshi was guarding the access shaft with Archer, that's where he needed to be. And if things were to go down the wrong way, there was no other place he'd rather be than by her side.

Archer briefly looked at him when he joined them, wordlessly handed him a launcher. The cover to the access shaft had been blown apart. "Hoshi got the first one. They're probably drawing straws as to whom comes next." Reed couldn't help a feeling of pride. _Yep, that was his woman_. They waited silently, all senses alert. A noise echoing in the tight space let them know another robot was coming up. It was difficult to creep up a metallic ladder when one was made of steel. Archer braced the launcher against his chest and neatly clipped the robotic head that popped through from the access shaft.

But the droids has a plan and the commotion allowed the one a couple of rungs behind the sacrifice to lob an incendiary device onto the bridge. The three officers heard the clang as it landed on the deck and then heard it roll somewhere into the main bridge area.

"Bloody hell!" Malcolm was already up, running after the noise, looking all over for the device before it exploded. There was a loud popping noise, treacherous in its normality. But there was no explosion, no ripping shockwave to tear them apart and Reed breathed more easily. The device must have been a dud, it sometimes happened, their luck had held, Archer's renowned luck had saved them all again.

Then there was the hiss of a slow release and Malcolm started again to panic, looking all over. Before he could locate the device, a heavy curtain of smoke was swallowing the bridge and its people, so thick that he wouldn't have known where he was except that he already knew. He didn't know in which direction to move, he didn't even know where Hoshi and Archer were. "Hoshi!" he screamed. If she answered, he would at least know where to find the droids. But the sounds of struggle were the only sounds that reached him, icing his heart over with fear. "Hoshi!" He screamed again, more in rage than fear, before shakily moving forward. He would find her. If it was the last thing he did, he would find her.

T'Pol didn't look up from the scanner at his calls, unaware that the bridge was thick with smoke, there was no smoke where the torpedoes were, no interstices between her vand and the scanner for smoke to creep in. Her internal clock ticked from four to three. Three minutes to landfall. In two minutes and forty-five seconds, the torpedoes directional software would self-activate and their motors come to life, sending them at sonic speed directly into the heart of the energy source. The planetary defense system would be triggered but would not have the time to react.

She heard the clanging of steel boots as the droids came off the ladder, but not the heavy fire that should have welcomed them. That was when she finally looked up into the thick smoke on the bridge, the vand failing to see anything, the echolocation device filling in where it failed, letting her know three droids were pushing away the inanimate forms of Archer and Ensign Sato as they slowly emerged from the access shaft. Two minutes and thirty-one seconds. Lieutenant Reed was in the bridge well, turning slowly on himself as he tried to figure out which way to go. In a couple of steps she was at his side. He jumped when he felt her hand on his sleeve and she quickly nerve pinched him into silence as she freed the launcher from his grasp. He would have made too perfect a target. Two minutes and fifteen seconds.

She crouched low where the droids wouldn't sense her. She had to destroy them. It should have been that she destroyed the energy source first but their irruption on the bridge had reorganized the timeline. Her mate laid wounded at her feet and the droids would die for it. The robots were circling around the bridge, looking for a central command node, their own ease of locomotion indicative that the smoke did not disrupt their visual processes. T'Pol closely noted their exact location on the bridge, mentally going over the gestures that would take them down in rapid succession. One minute and forty-five seconds. She was no MACO however and even a MACO would have been hard-pressed to successfully do so. She considered how the droids were oblivious to the bridge crew groping around in the pea-soup fog. Her decision made, she noiselessly went back up to the science station deck, climbing under the railguard. She laid the mine launcher on the chair next to her, hidden from robotic sight, and went back to the scanner. One minute and twenty-five seconds.

On the bridge, the three droids had identified the captain chair as the node of all the ship's command and were congregated around it, examining the display padds on its arms. One of them extracted small tools from its mechanical arm and started drilling through the panels, intent on reaching the fiber optic network that fed the display. Once they hooked into it, they would have full control of the ship. One minute and nine seconds. T'Pol was bent over her scanner, breathing out the pain of focusing through the vand after the welcome respite, the unrelenting pressure hitting new highs and bringing moisture to her eyes.

She looked up when the drilling noise stopped and saw that the droids had removed the panel, were examining the wires feeding into the captain's chair. Forty-seven seconds. One of them turned its arm into a socket and plugged it in. They were now in the ship's brain. It would take at least a few seconds for them to filter through the encyclopedia of information in the database, identify the actual command routines. She went back to her scanner. There were no emotions to be had. The stratagem would work or it would not. She checked on the console their progress in reading the ship's database, knew from the change in pitch behind the display when they had finished. Twenty-six seconds. Odds were astronomically low that their intervention would first focus on what had been released from the ship like so much debris. Twenty-five seconds.

Twenty-four seconds. Twenty-three seconds. Twenty-two seconds. The droids took control of the helm, she saw Travis let his arms drop at his sides in frustration. Nineteen seconds. Eighteen seconds. Sixteen seconds. As if on cue, the pinpoint dots of the torpedoes went from black to red as their engines activated, the sudden power and the angle of their thrust enough to free them from the drag of the tractor beam. They veered straight towards the energy source, a train of deadly warheads aimed at their target. The first one to hit the pre-programmed coordinates exploded in a fiery cloud, followed by another, then another, then another. The fifth torpedo was the one, its explosion triggering further explosions down under the surface until suddenly a massive fireball reached through the sky almost straight at Enterprise. On the planet, an entire mesa-like range of black cliffs billowed like a weightless blanket before falling back in disordered chunks, still glowing black and red from the heat.

Freed from the tractor beam, Enterprise flew backwards at impulse five point six seven, the sudden change in direction sending everyone teetering for a few seconds. There was a zapping charge of static energy around the androids who seemed to be caught in a repetitive cycle of opening the panel and checking the wires. All internal references to the planet gone, they were just peripheral devices with limited functionality, no better than assemblies of parts and circuits.

T'Pol's hand closed on the mine launcher.

xx

Even without the vand she would have found him. He was slumped at the foot of the science console, his uniform charred right above where his heart was. She knelt by his side and took hold of his hand, hungry for the emotional connection. He coughed a little bit of blood and opened his eyes, looking at her as if from miles away.

"Trip!" She called to him, suddenly aware of how limited her verbal emotional expression was, how she could not express the hurricane of feelings raging through her, she could not even fully apprehend them. She grabbed both his hands and opened the bond, bringing down her carefully wrought shields in an orgy of openness and baring her soul to him, all the way to her anxiety that her Vulcan feelings were too strong, that they might damage him in some ways. Nothing mattered, the crushing blow of her blindness didn't matter, she would be vulnerable if it could save him, none of it mattered. If she could infuse him with her life force, she would.

Trip opened his eyes, turned to her as if he was seeing deep through the vand all the way to her core. "Please don't go to Vulcan." And then he stopped breathing. Through the bond, she felt his heart beat erratically then stop. Without thinking, she brought both fists above her head and slammed his chest above his heart, wincing at the cracking sound. However rough in form the shock was enough to restart his heart and he coughed up blood again.

First aid skills were second nature, so well learned and practiced without ever thinking she would one day use them on the man she loved. Before she knew it she was pushing rhythmically on his chest, opening up his airway. It wasn't going fast enough and she took a deep breath and blew it into his lungs, stopping every few breaths to fist-massage his heart. He suddenly inhaled. The heartbeat steadied in the bond. She kept her hands over his chest, marveling at the life force still there, ready to pounce back into action. The world shrunk to his face and the rise and fall of his chest. Something tried to physically take her away and she fought to get back to her mate, snarling a threat to back off.

"T'Pol! T'Pol!" Phlox grabbed her by the shoulders, working hard to avoid her biting. "We have him. You've kept him alive. Let the medics through." He couldn't see her eyes through the vand but the heartbeat hesitation told him she may have heard him. "It's ok! We're here! You can let go."

She did let go, giving Phlox access, then getting up and stepping away, all the time keeping a watchful eye on what they were doing. There was a wetness around her mouth. She wiped it off then looked down at her hand and the incongruously red blood coating it.

Archer came to her side, freshly patched up but still haggard. They stood staring while the medics worked on Trip, it seemed to take forever to stabilize him and then Phlox and the medical team were running the gurney off to Sickbay. Seated by the blown hatch cover, Reed looked apologetic as Phlox swore about having to use the vertical access shaft. He would have shrugged were it not for the ache in his shoulder, T'Pol didn't know her own strength. His good arm was supporting Hoshi against his chest, her hair so black against the white of the dermapatch, he would stay with her until the medical team returned and took her away.

Archer looked around at the devastated bridge, so many bodies lying all around, they would first take care of the living. Mahdin would never have to leave the ship. The captain's chair was a charred mess under three molten heaps of metal and wires. He didn't quite understand. The MACOs had said that once the energy source was destroyed, the droids stopped fighting effectively, became aimlessly repetitive, going over and over the last ten minutes of their programming. There was no reason to destroy them. Perhaps T'Pol had wanted to protect the ship's command functions.

"Go to him," he rasped at her. There would be time later on for a debrief, to pin a medal on her. He didn't think she'd care one way or the other.


	31. Contagion 31 A Sense of Renewal

Phlox was grateful that Denobulans only hibernated a few times a year and that his hibernation cycle had recently ended. He sighed as he looked over the chock-full Sickbay. He must be one of those rare business managers who celebrated not seeing a customer cross their threshold on any given day. And now he had had to requisition the guest quarters to house the less severely wounded crew members, unfortunately too few. Captain Archer would be writing a handful of eulogies, more than a handful once he factored in the dead MACOs. The survivors of the fight with the androids were crammed on biobeds set throughout the ward, isolated only for the truly critical as opposed to the severely critical, the white curtains starkly fresh in light of the devastation behind them.

He popped his head into one of the isolated units and glanced inside before slipping between the curtains. Trip was heavily sedated, almost whiter than the pillow his head was resting on, the beeps of machines steadily signaling that his vitals were stable, his breathing had not stopped. He wouldn't be waking for a while. T'Pol was on a chair, asleep with her head on the biobed, her hand almost touching him. Once again, Phlox felt a pang of guilt that he hadn't forced her to leave but on the other hand she too needed to be in Sickbay, her synaptic readings elevated beyond any Vulcan scale from the stress of the vand and that little trick she pulled with the echolocation device and since he had no other space left, that seemed as good a compromise as any. He scowled as he passed the scanner over her sleeping form, fishing out a hypo with a flourish and injecting it into her neck. She stirred at the disruption, started to raise her head, turning unseeing eyes in his direction. He had taken the vand away, she was forbidden to use any of the adaptive devices again until the synaptic readings were within acceptable range, he wouldn't even ask for normal. "Doctor?"

"Just passing by," he reassured her as her head lolled and she promptly fell back asleep. He adjusted the chair so that she was at least slightly more comfortable, once the immediate crisis had resolved he would come back and walk her back to her quarters himself.

xx

His chest hurt like hell and he had a monstrous headache. He didn't feel like opening his eyes and checking what time it was, he would just sleep the hangover off. Trip tried to remember what he drank, where and with whom, coming up blank on all counts. He frowned slightly. Why did he feel so out of sorts? He was a married man now, the liquor never held that much interest, to be honest, and he didn't remember any reason for celebration. The last thing he remembered... he fished for a while but came up empty. Ok, starting from the top, he was on Enterprise, that he remembered. He had breakfast with T'Pol. No, scratch that. He hadn't had breakfast with her. They were barely speaking these days, with her wanting to go to Vulcan.

His eyes snapped open. That was it. He remembered now. He had asked her not to go. Or had he? Why was he no longer feeling that she was planning to leave him and go back to Vulcan? He couldn't remember, he just had vague memories of something emotional that left him feeling even more drained and tired. Sleep called him insistently and he gratefully obeyed, thinking just as he lost consciousness that he could feel the bond again.

xx

When he opened his eyes again, the gorilla sitting on his chest was a little bit lighter, though not that much. He wanted to move but a bottomless fatigue robbed him of the will. He turned his head to the side, half-expecting to see T'Pol, disappointed that she wasn't there. He had thought she was sleeping right next to him this whole time. Had he fooled himself? Yet he just knew she was not going to Vulcan.

Just then the curtains parted and she walked in tentatively, not out of any timidity but because she didn't have the vand on. "Where's the vand?" he asked. Trip groaned inwardly, mentally chastising himself. They had some major things to speak about, something happened on the bridge that he didn't fully remember but that had the taste of extreme emotional import, and all he could ask was 'where's the vand?' "It doesn't really matter what happened to the vand." There, Tucker, that's more like it.

"Dr. Phlox has forbidden me to use the vand or the echolocation device for a while."

"He has? Why, were they showing signs of wear?" Kind of knowing already they were not, trying to keep it at a light banter.

"They were not but my overuse has caused some synaptic reactions and the doctor intends for everything to come back to normal before I can use them again." She had her hands behind her back, as if this was some routine day on Enterprise and some normal conversation, devoid of the usual laden tension that accompanied anything having to do with her sight.

There were so many questions. What did she mean by overuse? Why weren't they talking about the elephant in the room, as in why was he in Sickbay? And what about going to Vulcan? Instead, he kept going with the conversation that was not the one he really wanted to have.

"How are you doing without them?" He knew how much she hated the sense of vulnerability that came from not seeing. It seemed strange that he knew, she had never vocally expressed anything of the sort. How did he know?

"Quite well, actually." She stopped talking. She was a Vulcan and she had answered his question, therefore there was no need to talk anymore unless she wanted a precise answer to another question. And she didn't.

Trip found that he didn't mind the silence at all. He was happy she was there and he was happy with the humming feel of the bond in his brain. Resting in bed, looking at her and feeling her presence. As far as he was concerned, that was the cat's meow. She came closer to the bed, called to him by the reverberation from the bond. He smiled at her. It didn't matter if she couldn't see it, he knew that she would feel it through the bond.

Suddenly self-conscious, he cleared his throat in a pantomime of busy action. "Perhaps someone will tell me what I'm doing in sickbay?"

She laid a hand on the coverlet, very close to him but not touching. "You were gravely wounded by the androids."

He looked at her in stupor. The androids? Another sliver of memory came back, the bridge, they were trying to destroy the energy source, and Archer and Reed ran back talking about androids trying to take over the ship. "The energy source!" he made a sudden movement as if to get up, caught again in the adrenaline-infused stress of trying to find a way to destroy the energy source. He was back on the bridge, there was noise all around, Reed had just exclaimed that the turbolift was moving... and then nothing. He looked at her in surprise, wincing at the same time from the pain of moving around. She extended a hand towards him, eyes still focused off his face. "Are you in pain?"

It took him a couple of seconds before he could talk, pushing words through a strained throat. "It's just..." He breathed deeply, winced even more. He had to breathe shallowly. "I don't know, my ribs." He felt a slight sense of avoidance just before he saw her look to the side, the tips of her ears turning a nice shade of green as she stated "I may have had something to do with that."

He squinted at her. "Something to do with what?" Then realization dawning on him. "You broke my ribs?" Did they have an argument on the bridge? They had been at odds, but not that much. Not enough to break his ribs. And she'd be in the brig. Both of them would.

Her raised eyebrows expressed fully what she thought of the idea. "In a manner of speaking."

What the hell did that mean? "What d'you mean, in a manner of speaking? You either broke my ribs or you didn't."

"It was necessary."

"Necessary?!" Of all the Vulcan things to pull, that took the cake. "And why was it necessary, do tell," his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Your heart had stopped and I didn't have access to a defibrillator. A brusque hit to the chest can generate enough kinetic energy to restart the cardiac rhythm."

Trip's jaw went slack. Another sliver of memory flew back from the great unknown and landed squarely in place, completing a little bit more of the puzzle. All of a sudden he remembered the door to the turbolift open, an android came out, and then something thumped his chest, hard, and he fell. After that, everything went black. But he knew enough about weapons to know that he had been hit. He swallowed several times, throat too constricted to talk, feeling foolish and stupid and petty and unworthy. She had saved his life and he was giving her grief about his ribs. Why was he always such a jackass?

"There was no way for you to know." The bond had informed her of his shame. He felt a deep sense of thrill that she could call out his feelings again. It was like finding something very precious that he had thought lost, like an everyday celebration.

"Dr. Phlox says you'll make a full recovery." He appreciated her attempt to provide information, to preempt the possibility that he was worried about his physical integrity. But he was not. Or perhaps he was no longer because she had told him.

"Commanders!" It seemed he wouldn't get to ask any more questions. Phlox brushed through the curtains, scanner at the ready. Trip was expecting the medical device to be aimed at him but instead the doctor took lengthy readings of T'Pol. Trip narrowed his eyes at her. What was she not telling him?

"Very good, very good" The Denobulan was jovial. "The synaptic passageways are nicely opening up again. In another day or two, you can go back to using the vand. But usage will have to be restricted and strictly monitored, hmm? "

T'Pol inclined her head towards the doctor but did not reply. Trip smirked inwardly. Didn't Phlox realize that by not speaking she was not agreeing? He frowned again slightly at the clarity of his knowing that about her. Before he had only suspected, usually in hindsight.

"And you," Phlox had turned to Trip, "that was quite a scare you gave us, young man. I hope you won't do that again for a long time. I'm not sure I can survive the stress, or the collateral damage." His glance at T'Pol as he talked let Trip know about the source of the feared collateral damage.

"When do I get out?" Trip asked hopefully.

Phlox snorted. "You may be mending but you'll be on sick leave for a good long time. Don't be in a hurry to leave."

Trip sighed, not too deeply given the ribs, looked at T'Pol. "Well, I guess it won't be too bad if I'm not alone."

An eyebrow cut him off at the knees. "My duties require my presence on the bridge during the day."

Trip could only stare at her open-mounted. Did she say she would be on the bridge? But she couldn't see and she didn't have her vand. Was he the only one who noticed that? He made a desperate gesture at Phlox, pointing his hand to his eyes with a questioning look. However hard he tried not to, he ended up blurting "But you can't see!"

"I can still hear" was the only reply she judged opportune to give. Trip looked at her in shock. Did he actually wake up or was he in some kind of waking dream?

His shock only increased when Reed's face popped through the curtains. "I'm going back to the bridge." He told T'Pol. Then seeing that Trip was awake "Tucker! You bloody hellhound! When d'you wake up?!"

"Oh just, you know" he shrugged.

Red was smiling. "I came to see Hoshi. She's being discharged tomorrow. Can't wait!" Another complete mystery that Trip would have to figure out.

He watched in disbelief as T'Pol left with Reed, using his presence by her side as a guide. Was any of this real? He looked at the curtains long after they had closed on them and Phlox. And he still hadn't asked about what he really wanted to know. Did he really ask her not to go back to Vulcan? Was it all just a dream? Perhaps he was in an alternate universe? Or in a coma? He tried coughing a little bit to check whether he was awake. Gosh, it wasn't possible to feel that much pain and still be asleep. Unless one could dream of being in pain? Could they?

xx

Nothing had changed when he woke up the next day, or the one after that, and Trip finally had to accept that this was for real. He felt stronger and the sense of strength carried over from the physical to the emotional. Strong enough to have his questions answered. Phlox had told him how T'Pol had saved his life, Archer had told him how she attacked the medics when they tried to approach him, he knew she wasn't going back to Vulcan though he had no idea how he knew that and whether it was because he had asked her not to leave, if he had. Other than that, the bond was alive and pulsating and yet their interactions were strangely stilted, both of them circling each other like wary opponents, talking but not having the conversation that needed to be had.

T'Pol stepped lithely through the curtains. The vand was back on, and still she approached him almost timidly. That clinched it. They had to talk. "You and I. We need to talk." He greeted her as she approached the bed.

"Talk?" Through the bond, the thought that they were well beyond the point of talking. Her head turned down and to the side, a signal of avoidance. His mind again frustratingly querying how he knew that instead of just suspecting it.

"Your feelings aren't gonna break me, you know." Now why had he said that? Where did it come from? She paled a little and he knew he hadn't dreamed it. There was something in his mind, the imprint of something that had been there, echoes of a conversation that already took place but that he didn't remember. He felt like he was journeying into a morass he had never seen before, and yet each of his footsteps squarely connected with a waiting stepping stone.

She finally looked at him through the vand. "I do not understand."

There had already been an ocean of miscommunication between them, he needed to proceed cautiously. "What don't you understand?"

"Do you remember what you said?"

As usual where this particular day of his life was concerned he drew a blank. "I wish I did, but no, can't say I do."

"You asked me to not go to Vulcan."

Trip exhaled forcefully, winced as he newly mended ribs reminded him of their presence. So it was not a dream. He had said it. Was it why he had the feeling she was no longer going to Vulcan? He eyed her warily. "I kinda remember that, yes. Is that why you're no longer going?" He wasn't going to pretend he didn't know she had decided against leaving.

"No. I am not going to Vulcan because I do not wish to be parted from you."

'I do not wish to be parted from you.' The words were like a key to an ancient puzzle, unlocking more of his memories. Suddenly, he was swept by a maelstrom of emotions, he could feel himself laying near death on the floor of the bridge and he could feel her opening up to him, letting him know how much he meant to her and see through her, all the way to how being blind wounded her ego in ways he couldn't start to understand. And because being Human made him an expert at emotional mastery, he could see, shading all of it, the huge, the abject misunderstanding that led her to think he didn't want to be with her anymore in her disability and him to think she found him insufficient in her disability. He wanted to cry from the relief and pleasure and joy of finding out she still loved him, she wanted to stay with him. He blinked several times rapidly, enough to stop the tears at his eyelashes. "And I do not wish to be parted from you either.' His voice croaked, but he didn't care.

She inclined her head to the side. "I do not understand." And it dawned on him that she didn't have the emotional fluency he had, that he needed to take her by the hand and guide her onto the stepping stones that were so natural under his feet. And the slow realization that in order to do so he would have to open up the way she had, and that were Vulcan emotions were linear tsunamis, Human emotions were thickets of complexities. He would have to be careful lest she be caught and hurt on little understood but very human emotional brambles.

He cleared his throat. "The issue is I'm Human, not everything I feel's going to be pleasant. Some of it's downright ugly. It doesn't mean anything because Humans're the kings of ambivalence, we can have different feelings at the same time about the same thing, sometimes diametrically opposite, and that doesn't paralyze us." The tip of an eyebrow silently commenting about the illogicality of it. He chuckled at that. Those were the times when he realized how truly different they were and how much all of his misgivings about the bond and about being an open book to her could never really be an issue.

"Here goes." He hoped she wouldn't take offense, at least not too much. He was helped forward by the certainty that no matter what he showed her, it wouldn't make her leave him. He grabbed her hand, feeling a shiver echo through the bond as he kissed her Vulcan-style. He would have preferred to talk to her, to explain, however imperfectly, the layers of what he felt and thought and how his feelings weaved through and around each other in a failsafe foundation. Instead, he let his feelings come to the surface of his consciousness, aware that she would pick them up through the bond. They were all there for her to see, his incertitude about their future, his fear that he would be burdened with her care, his frustration at not being able to fix things for her, his anger that she may become dependent on him, his disappointment that he may not be enough for her, and overall his acknowledgement of how irrational it was that he would not want to deal with her disability and yet be angry that she'd want to go back to Vulcan. And because he was Human he could hold her hand securely throughout the entire process, letting her know how in the end all that mattered was that he didn't want her to leave.

Eventually she pulled her hand away and he found himself back within the confines of his own body. She nodded her acknowledgement that she understood. But his Human side needed something more. He looked at her with a grin. "You know, in ancient times, if someone saved your life, you'd marry them. I've always been a bit of a romantic." He took her hand back, holding it between his. "T'Pol of Vulcan, will you marry me?"

Her eyebrows threatened to fly right off her head from the illogical request since they were already married. Trip started laughing, chocked on the pain in his ribs, ended up coughing, which brought more pain. He finally stopped, red as a beet, tearing from the pain. "I mean it."

"I already did." He smiled. That was her own way of saying yes. Again, he hesitated, wondering how he knew this. Then he remembered she had let him see all the way to her soul.

But the Vulcan in her had had enough of the illogical fancy. "I am needed on the bridge." She got up to leave.

"By the way," he called her back just as she was leaving, "you don't have to monitor my vitals, you know." She looked surprised that he knew and he simply raised an eyebrow at her in response.

xxxxx

Trip walked into their quarters, saw that T'Pol was already in bed. Her shifts as sole science officer on the bridge were bone-tiring for her and yet she showed no sign of finding the challenge insurmountable. They would usually come off-shift together, but he had been delayed by a sudden drop of pressure in one of the plasma injectors. Turned out that someone on his team had neglected to recalibrate the feed when they switched casings. After which he had chewed out his entire team, make sure they wouldn't forget again. He would get her up early to meditate with her in the morning, that was the least he could do.

"Computer, lights" he called, and their room was bathed in the glow of artificial lighting.

"Can you lower the lights, it precipitates a headache" came a muffled voice from the bed. "Computer, lights, night" Trip called. "Sorry, honey, I didn't mean to wake you up." She must have fallen asleep with the vand on, as she often did even though she was technically not supposed to wear it off-duty. A small technicality that Phlox was kind enough to turn a blind eye too. Funny how he used to twist himself into a pretzel when these kinds of everyday references to sight popped up in his speech or mind. These days, he would share the unintended pun with her, the graceful arch of an eyebrow above the vand indicative of her appreciation of the fortuitous irony. He would have to remember to take the vand off her when he went to bed.

Her steady breath was the only answer he got and he realized she had already gone back to sleep. He walked into their bathroom, took a long and hot shower and proceeded to scrub the grime from a whole half-day sorting through injector casings. When he was done, he passed a comb through his hair, checking that there were no remaining smudges on his face. He pushed the vand aside to lay down the brush.

And froze.

And picked up the vand, looking at it as if some alien artifact. And rushed back to the bedroom, vand in hand, shaking her awake.

She opened her eyes, blinked, and closed them again against the light, bringing a hand to her temple.

"Too bright for you?" Trip asked, repressing the urge to laugh and cheer and hug her all at once.

"While I realize you have the lights at night-level, they are still intense enough to cause a headache."

Trip laughed out loud and T'Pol opened one eye, looking at him with a mix of annoyance and concern. He raised his hand, showing her the vand. "You can see!" he laughed again, sat on the bed and took her into a bear hug. T'Pol eyes went from the vand to him, obviously processing the situation. Then her eyebrows lifted her bangs. "Indeed, it seems the optical nerve is healing. Though I need to talk to Dr. Phlox about the headache."

"Don't worry, honey, Phlox will be thrilled to make a house call." Trip was chuckling all the way to the intercom.

THE END

xxxxxx

 _Thank you everyone, for reading, for commenting, for being there._

 _A-_

 _ _With a special recognition to "The Plague" by Albert Camus, that inspired the first arc of the story. The rest is all Star Trek.__

 _XXXXXXXXX_

 _Please feed the muse and review. If you liked it, review, prefer, favorite, anything you want but let me know. (If you didn't, let me know also.)_


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